


Bricks & Feathers

by the_forgotten_friend



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, BAMF Dean Winchester, Bottom Castiel, Domestic Violence, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fist Fights, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sarcasm, Self-Harm, Slow Build, Slurs, Top Dean, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-02-09 21:56:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 36,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12897657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_forgotten_friend/pseuds/the_forgotten_friend
Summary: Dean is used to winning, dominating in and out of the ring, until a new challenge appears in the form of Castiel Novak, the quiet, eccentric friend of his cousin Charlie. He can't seem to shake his fascination with someone so clearly uninterested, so mysterious. The whispers of a new fighter in the underground scene don't affect Dean, until he's face to face with "Angel," and the world as he knows it spirals into something else entirely.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First public fic, never had the confidence to post anything where anyone could read it. Always open to suggestions on ways to improve

A crash from the kitchen followed by a yell jerked Dean awake. He was awake instantly, on his feet and across the room in a flash. He wrenched the door open, ignoring the cold floor on his bare feet. From his doorway, he could see small shards of glass spinning in place at the edge of the kitchen. "Well, shit," came his cousin Charlie's voice. He made his way down the hall, careful not to step on the glittering shards that had somehow made it to the wood. He poked his head around the corner, trying not to laugh at the sight before him. Charlie was standing by the fridge, jug of orange juice in one hand, other hand pinching the bridge of her nose, and a small trickle of blood running down her face. Her red hair was still wild from sleep, her over-sized Star Trek shirt hanging well past her knees.

"Why are you breaking things this early?" He asked, still suppressing laughter.

"Fuck you," she grumbled, "Damn cup fell off the shelf and hit me in the face. Aren't you supposed to be concerned? I'm basically your little sister."

He picked his way carefully across the floor, grabbing the dish rag off the edge of the sink to wipe away the blood. "If you were badly hurt? Yes. The cup attacking you first thing because you have a habit of placing them right on the edge of the shelf? No. That's karma, cuz."

She swatted at him, her small hand hitting his bicep as he pulled the broom from between the counter and the fridge. He swept up the shards quickly, careful to get all of the tiny pieces since he and his cousin had a habit of not wearing shoes around the house. If there's one thing Dean was picky about, it was his feet. He couldn't fight with glass in his feet. Charlie was still muttering about evil cups when Dean dumped the broken pieces in the recycling bin, the almost musical sound of falling glass filling the room. He put the broom away and took her small chin in his hand, turning her face this way and that, to check for any further damage. The bleeding had stopped, nothing appeared to be broken, but she was going to have a nice bruise.

She seemed to read his thoughts. "Of course, today of all days I would bust my nose."

Dean felt his brow furrow in confusion. "What is so special about today?"

Her eyes rolled towards the ceiling, "I told you, my friend is moving here! He got the apartment down the hall! I've only been talking about it for weeks, Dean. Maybe if you weren't so busy beating up strangers, you would pay attention to your poor, neglected cousin."

Now it was his turn to roll his eyes. "My ass. You love coming to fights with me because you use me to pick up girls. And, I hang out with you all the time, when you're not stuck in your online fantasy world thing. I'm the neglected one."

She snorted, but nudged him affectionately as she reached for another cup for her orange juice. He moved to start a pot of coffee, scratching idly at the back of his scalp. He vaguely remembered Charlie mentioning a friend moving in down the hall, but none of the other details. She was excited, so he was excited. Aside from his brother, Sam, Charlie was his best friend. The little sister he never had.

"So what's this friend like?" Dean asked casually, staring at the coffee pot and willing it to brew faster.

She immediately launched into how they had met at some convention earlier in the year and hit it off. The new semester was about to start, and he had been scoping it out before making his final decision. Dean attended a few classes, mostly because Sam and Charlie had commanded him to. He had fully intended to just go straight to working in his Uncle Bobby's shop. Yet, here he was a year later, attending college and living with his cousin. She gushed about her new friend, and Dean tried to listen, but he was more focused on coffee.

"So, I told him we would help him move his stuff in when he got here!" Charlie babbled excitedly.

"Hey, wait," Dean set the now full pot on the counter, distracted from pouring himself a mug, "We? When did I get involved in this?"

She grinned at him, "It won't kill you, Dean. Get out of the apartment, make a new friend."

Dean sighed heavily, pouring his coffee. He didn't bother arguing with her, there was no point. What Charlie lacked in size, she made up for in personality and will power. Once she was set on something, there was no changing her mind. It was a family trait, if stubbornness could _be_ a family trait. He took a large gulp of his coffee, smiling as Charlie screwed her face up at him.

"Gross. No sugar or anything." She looked at the clock above Dean's head, poking her lip out a little in a pout, "He won't be here for another few hours."

"Geez, Charlie, if I didn't know better I'd say you were in love," Dean teased.

She choked on her orange juice, coughing and spluttering while Dean laughed. She glared at him, but it just reminded Dean of a fluffed up kitten.

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response. I'll just have to bring home a knock-out tonight," She winked, turning to walk back to her room, "Don't go back to sleep. We are helping."

He heard her door close, signaling the end of the discussion. Dean stayed in the kitchen, leaned against the counter as he drank his coffee. He didn't particularly like new people, took too long getting to know them. He tolerated Charlie's other friends, he actually liked a couple of them, so he could do the same with this new friend. His mind drifted, and before he knew it, he was out of coffee. He poured another mug and headed to his room, sitting at his desk. He checked his phone, but it was too early for anyone he associated with to be awake. Hell, it was too early for Dean to be awake. He hadn't returned home until well after 1 a.m. yet here he was at 9 drinking coffee like a normal person. He glanced at his knuckles with mild interested, mainly just checking for unnoticed cuts from the previous night's match. When he had first started fighting for money, neither Sam nor Charlie had approved. They still didn't really approve per se, but they weren't as against it as they were before. Charlie seemed to enjoy herself whenever she went with him, and always managed to bring home some girl for the night. He and his cousin were alike in that way, a steady stream of women came and went from their small apartment. There was that one time Dean had brought home a guy, but Charlie didn't know about that. Dean had been very drunk, and curious. It surprised him how much he liked it, but he had yet to find someone worth the headache his cousin would undoubtedly give him. Now, when he had the urges, he went back to the guy's places and returned home afterwards.

Dean took one last swig of his coffee and decided to lay down again despite what Charlie had said. Before he knew it, he had drifted back to sleep.

~~

Charlie was practically vibrating with energy as they watched the moving van roll into the parking lot. Dean stifled a yawn as the van pulled up next to them on the side walk. A short guy with chestnut hair jumped out of the passenger seat and pulled Charlie into a tight hug. Judging by the look of surprise on her face, she was not expecting that.

"I didn't know you were coming!" She gushed. "Thanks for the heads up! Dean, this is Gabe."

Dean gave a small wave, looking over him quickly. He was a full head shorter than Dean, but still a little taller than Charlie. He had sharp, almost golden eyes that darted around mischievously over pointed cheekbones. He very much reminded Dean of a hawk or sorts. Another figure came around the front of the van and wrapped Charlie in a hug as well. She laughed, turning to introduce him as well.

"And this is Castiel!" She trilled excitedly. "Gabe is his brother. This is gonna be so great!"

Dean was floored by how attractive Castiel was. Where Gabe was all golden sunshine, Castiel was evening shadows. His hair was dark, almost black, a stark contrast to the pale smoothness of his skin, and his eyes a striking clear blue, framed by thick, black lashes. He had a steady, calculating gaze that was now focused on Dean.

Dean blinked quickly, trying to cover up his whirling thoughts, "Hey guys. Welcome to paradise."

"So, you're the famous Dean." Castiel smiled. "We've heard a lot about you."

 _Fuck_. Even this guy's voice was attractive. It was low and smooth, deeper than Dean had expected it to be.

"I'm not sure what all she's told you," Dean eyed Charlie, who was looking anywhere  _but_ towards Dean, "but it can't be all bad."

The brothers chuckled, Gabe heading to the back of the moving van. Dean followed, trying to focus on the task at hand and not the steady rumble of Castiel's voice as he talked about the drive with Charlie. There wasn't much in the back of the van as far as possessions go, Dean could see the brackets for two simple bed frames pinned to the wall by the mattresses, and the largest piece of furniture seemed to be a tv that even Dean thought was a little excessive.

Gabe noticed him eyeing it and laughed, "Wait till you play Elder Scrolls on that thing. Its intense."

Dean laughed softly, "Never been much of a gamer. That's always been Charlie's thing. But, I may have to try it out now."

Between the four of them, unloading the truck didn't take long. Thankfully, the apartment was on the ground floor so they didn't have to fight with stairs. Dean and Castiel paired up for the larger objects, being that they were almost matched in height and build. That surprised Dean. He hadn't expected one of Charlie's nerdy con friends to be as toned as Castiel seemed to be.  _Where did she find this guy?_ Dean wondered to himself as the two of them lifted a heavy wooden dresser from the van.

After everything was unloaded, Charlie followed Castiel to drop off the moving van, leaving Dean alone with Gabe in the now box-filled apartment. Gabe wiggled his eyebrows as he claimed the bigger of the two rooms, and Dean couldn't help but smile. 

"So, Dean," Gabe flopped back on to the couch against the wall, pulling a lollipop from thin air it seemed, "What's the scene like here?"

"What scene?" Dean propped himself on the wall.

"The  _scene._ The people, the hang outs. The parties. The tail," Gabe winked.

Again, Dean laughed, "They're all pretty great."

Gabe looked at him expectantly, but Dean wasn't sure what else he should say. After a minute or two, Gabe rolled his eyes and sighed.

"Great,  _more_ strong silent types. As if living with Cassie isn't going to be exactly that." Gabe seemed dismayed.

Dean opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when Charlie and Castiel burst into the room. Dean fought against another yawn, but it didn't last. Moving all of the furniture had brought some soreness to Dean's attention, and now he just felt exhausted. He stayed a few more minutes, listening to Charlie chatter away about all of the events she had planned for them, before excusing himself and making his escape. Charlie shot him a look, but didn't say anything as he left. He crawled back into bed, relaxing in to the mattress. He felt himself drifting off, his mind full of swirling blue.


	2. Chapter 2

The more Charlie dragged him along to hang out with her new friends, the more frustrated Dean became. He liked Gabriel, he was easy to get along with. They were similar in a few ways, sarcastic and fun yet fiercely loyal and protective older-brother types, though Gabe was more of a prankster than Dean was. Castiel, on the other hand, Dean couldn't figure out. He didn't talk much around Dean, and although Charlie and Gabe both insisted it was just "who he was" and that he would "warm up eventually" Dean got the distinct feeling that the guy didn't like him. For reasons he couldn't quite place, this bothered Dean. Hell, it bugged the piss out of him. Cas wasn't ever  _rude_ to him, and he would answer when Dean spoke to him, but that was about it. He hardly ever addressed Dean of his own accord. It didn't help that Dean hadn't been in a fight in the three weeks since the brothers had moved in. He was too pent up, too anxious. Which is why he practically yelled with excitement when Crowley's name appeared across his phone screen. He had jumped up, causing the assembly of nerds in his living room to wince at his sudden movement.

"Please, for the love of God, tell me you have something good," Dean answered breathlessly.

There was a small chuckle on the other end of the line, followed by Crowley's signature British accent, "I wouldn't go getting the big man involved, but I do have something good. Jake Talley, Norton basement, One hour."

Dean groaned, his excitement waning slightly, but not quite. He didn't want to say too much around Charlie's band of misfits, as she so lovingly called the group. They didn't know about the fighting, to his knowledge, and he wasn't about to explain it. He told Crowley he would see him there and headed off to his room. He had fought Talley before, and it wasn't nearly as fun as some of the other fights he had been in. Kid was an Army brat, too much confidence, not enough skill to back up his big mouth. This was going to be a quick one. Maybe, just maybe, Dean could find someone to leave with and get out some of the extra frustration he would no doubt have left over from the fight. Fight nights were an easy way to pick someone up, if the right crowds were there. He heard Charlie's muffled voice from the living room, and then a small knock on his door.

"Are you leaving?" Charlie asked as she slipped in to the room.

He pulled his lucky t-shirt over his head, the fabric soft from years of wash cycles.

"Well, yeah," Dean replied. "I'm going stir crazy here. I gotta get out, beat something up, get laid."

She rolled her eyes, "We are halfway through the movie though! There are 3 more to watch! You love Tolkein, even if you won't admit it."

"You own the movies, cuz," he laughed, "I'll make it up to you."

She huffed, but didn't reply. He pulled his work-out shorts from his gym bag, giving his cousin a pointed look. She turned and left the room so he could change in peace. Satisfied in his comfortable attire, Dean went back and joined the group again, though he stared at the clock more than the movie. Charlie was right about him liking the series they were currently binge watching, and about him never admitting it to her. It was just getting to his favorite part too, the giant battle scene between all of the armies was just beginning and the elves were racing to bring news of another wave. He slipped out quietly so he wouldn't disturb the others, and to his surprise, he found Cas' steady blue gaze trained on him as he pulled the door closed. Dean faltered, and gave a small nod in his direction at the last second. He couldn't contain the small, triumphant smile that sprang to his lips as Cas returned the nod. Maybe tonight wouldn't be so bad after all.

~~

Norton basement was packed. Apparently, the past three weeks had been dull for the whole Circle, not just Dean.

"Cops got a few people after the last match," Crowley explained as they waited at the edge of the crowd, "Fuckers spilled a few names, so there was a break. It should be all good now, and the talkers have been put on a watch list so to speak."

Dean grunted, but didn't say more. Crowley was the last person anyone would really expect to be in charge of the local Circle, but that was probably what made him so good at organizing it all. He wasn't a fighter himself, though Dean was sure he could hold his own if he needed to. The shorter man pulled a flask from his pea coat, holding it out to Dean after he took a swig of his own. Dean took it out of habit more than anything, welcoming the slow burn of expensive whiskey. He could see Talley on the other side of the small space left in the center of the dusty room, his eyes wilder than Dean remembered from their last fight. Dean pulled his shirt off as he stepped into the space, flexing and rolling his shoulders in preparation. Talley followed him with those wild eyes, but didn't move. Crowley held up his arm, a small air horn in his hand, and a nervous hush fell over the room. Talley stepped forward finally, and Crowley sounded the horn. Dean waited, knowing Talley would make the first move.

He was right. Almost instantly, the other man lunged at Dean. He danced backwards, and as Talley stumbled, Dean brought his elbow crashing in to the back of his opponent's head. The crowd erupted as Talley stumbled, dazed, but didn't fall. He turned, swinging a heavy fist toward Dean's stomach. Again, Dean easily dodged the blow. Hr grabbed Talley's elbow as it passed by him and yanked him forward, bringing his own fist around to catch him in the chin. The  _crack_ his knuckles made on Talley's jaw was nearly lost in the noise of the crowd, but it made the frustration in Dean's chest lessen slightly. After the initial blow, Dean let his emotions pour out through his fists, every connection made him feel a little lighter. It was over too soon; Talley finally falling after his last failed lunge at Dean. He had let him get a few hits in here and there, it wouldn't have been a good show otherwise. As Dean wiped the sweat off his brow with the rag he kept, Crowley pressed a roll of bills into his hand.

"Did you have to humiliate him like that?" Crowley nagged, "Poor kid's never going to go anywhere if you decimate him every time."

Dean shrugged, "It's been a frustrating few weeks."

Crowley snorted, but said nothing. Dean felt a small, cool hand on his bicep, a welcome feeling on his heated skin. He turned, looking down in to a familiar face framed by long, dark hair.

"Hi, Dean," Lisa drawled, running her fingers lightly down his arm, "Nice match."

His eyes traveled over her features appreciatively, taking in the almost too-tight outfit she was wearing. Lisa was one of the few women Dean had slept with more than once. She seemed to get that he wasn't interested in long term, and she didn't seem to be either. They expected nothing from each other but a good time. He wrapped his arm around her waist, tugging her against his side.

"Didn't know you'd be here," he said.

She put one arm around him, the other dragging slow circles across his still-bare chest. "Needed to get out. Wanna come back to my place?"

He heard Crowley gag behind him, but Dean ignored him. He winked at his friend as they walked away. The crowd parted as they made their way through, and Dean spotted a few jealous glares in Lisa's direction. If she noticed, she didn't show it. Towards the very edge of the room, Dean swore he saw a familiar flash of blue eyes and tousled dark hair. He blinked in confusion, searching the crowd more intently now, but his search came up empty. He had no idea why, but the thought of Castiel seeing him leave with Lisa made his stomach twist uncomfortably.  _I am not letting this kid get to me anymore,_ Dean thought determinedly, a new flash of frustration running through him.

The drive to Lisa's apartment was short, thankfully, and there was no hesitation as soon as the door clicked shut behind them. She had his back pressed against the door, hands roving across his torso. He didn't kiss many of his partners, it was too intimate for him, but he would kiss Lisa. She knew there were very little feelings behind the gesture. He wrapped his hands around her thighs, picking her up and carrying her over to the small table in her kitchen. They made quick work of undressing, and before Dean knew it she was rolling a condom over him. He wasted no time in spinning her around and bending her over the wooden surface. He sheathed himself inside of her, taking her long hair and wrapping it around his wrist to pull her head back.

She moaned, and it turned into a breathy laugh, "One of those nights, then."

Dean didn't answer, at least not with his voice. His response came in the form of the brutal pace he set, driving his hips forward and pulling hers back with his free hand. He could feel her tightening around him, her moans growing louder and more strained, but he kept his rhythm. He felt her orgasm, felt the rippling of her inner walls around his shaft, but he didn't let up. There was still so much pent up aggression in him, he actually found himself holding back. Lisa liked rough, sure, but there was a fine line. He had crossed it once, and it had taken weeks before she allowed him back to her place.

He could feel her legs trembling, so without missing a beat he scooped her up, pulling out of her long enough to spin her around and put her on her back, only to pick right back up where he left off. He pulled her legs flush against his chest, gripping her hips as he pounded in to her. Her moans were rising again, and for some reason, the sound was grating on Dean's nerves. He slid tow fingers in her mouth, her eyes fluttering open slightly before closing again. He could feel her tongue working over his fingers, and while she still moaned around them, it was somewhat muffled. He closed his eyes as he felt the slow burn building in him, his thrusts becoming more erratic and powerful. He bit his lip as he felt his release, slowing but still working his way through.

He eased out of her, knotting the condom and throwing it in the trash bin. She was still on the table, legs dangling off the side and staring at the ceiling.

"Work is going to be fun tomorrow," she laughed softly.

Dean smiled a little, pulling his boxers on, "You came to me, just keep that in mind."

She sat up finally, walking back to her bedroom and returning shortly after in an over-sized shirt. Dean was pulling on his shoes as she sat across his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. He blinked at her, surprised by her affection.

"You could stay," she mumbled softly.

Dean felt his stomach twist slightly. He didn't stay the night, not unless he was drunk. She knew that. He had an uneasy feeling as he eyed her levelly. He didn't speak right away, the two of them just looking at each other. Eventually, she sighed.

"Ya know, Dean," she began, standing up and tossing him his jacket, "One day, I'm going to move on from whatever this is."

She meant it, he knew, but there was also the familiar joking, flirty tone that he was so used to. He grinned at her, a cocky half smile that he had mastered over the years. She rolled her eyes at him as he passed, and he patted her briefly on the ass on his way out the door.

"One day, Lis, but not today."


	3. Chapter 3

The next week wore on Dean, though he would never admit it to anyone. The three week absence of the Circle had been felt, and everyone seemed to try to fit three weeks worth of fights into one. Every night for the following week, Dean found himself against new comers and veterans alike, and usually left with some girl the second his matches were over. He never bothered to stay and watch anyone else, it didn't really matter to Dean. He didn't care to watch what others could do, he would find out on his own when he met them in the ring. Dean was more interested in after the fights, as he searched for the flash of blue he had seen the first night, but he never found what he was looking for.

The last night of the week-long event was the longest for Dean. He had won his match, though just barely. He had agreed before hand to make it a long, interesting fight for the sake of the crowd, which of course meant letting his opponent get more than one or two hits in. Covered in sweat and blood as he was, it was still so easy for him to get the petite blond who had been eyeing him the whole night to leave with him. Hell, she didn't even want him to clean up first. She was cute, petite frame still accentuated with lovely curves, wavy blond hair and soft blue eyes. In the act of pinning her to the kitchen counter with his pelvis, he found himself wishing those eyes were deeper blue, and the short blond hair curled in fist was a deep, rich almost-black. He pushed the thoughts away the best he could, probably putting more frustration into his thrusts than he meant to. If he went too far, she didn't let him know.

She draped herself across his shoulders as he sat at the table afterwards, brushing small kisses across his neck. He felt a sinking feeling in his chest as her small hands traced across his biceps.

"Why such a rush?" she murmured as he was tying his shoes, "Stay, take a shower with me."

"I gotta get home," Dean shrugged her off gently.

He hoped she would take the hint, not draw this out into an unnecessary fight. Normally, Dean had a good sense for women that wouldn't react the way this one was starting to. He blamed the blue eyes for pulling him in. He needed to be more careful. He hadn't thrown the condom away yet, there wasn't a visible trash can, and he slipped it in his pocket quickly, the uneasy feeling in his chest growing. He wasn't about to take any chances, as slim as those chances might be.

She held out her hand, "Then let me give you my number."

Dean shrugged, purposely nonchalant, "Don't worry about it."

He turned away, but not before he saw the disappointment flash across her face. He had one hand on the door when something soft struck his back. It bounced off, he assumed it was a pillow. He heard her start to yell something at him, but he quickly closed the door behind him. He took a deep breath once outside, hoping the cool night air would calm his nerves.

The short drive back to his apartment passed all too quickly, and he soon found himself under Charlie's assessing gaze, just like every other night this week. She seemed to sense something was off this time though, placing her small fists on her hips.

"What happened?" she demanded.

"Went home with a girl, leaving got messy," Dean shrugged, "Can I shower now, please?"

She snorted a laugh, but let him pass. As Dean stood under the pounding spray of shower, watching the rust colored water swirl down the drain, he tried to let his mind relax. He was exhausted, his body aching from the vigorous week of fights and rough hook-ups, but he was too wound up to sleep. He stayed in the water until it ran cold, willing the heat to ease the tension he felt. With a sigh, he turned off the now cold water and stepped out, wrapping his towel around himself. He wandered into the kitchen, earning a wolf whistle from the couch. His head jerked up, eyeing the assembly that was now in his living room. Gabe, the source of the whistle of course, was grinning at Dean with a cardboard stick hanging out of his mouth. Kevin was in the floor, making a point not to look up from his laptop, and next to him was Meg Masters, who was not hiding the fact that she was ogling Dean. Meg was probably Dean's least favorite of Charlie's friends, but he tolerated her all the same. In all honesty, he had no idea why she hung out with Charlie at all, they had very little in common. Charlie claimed that was why they were so close, but Dean wasn't sure he bought it. She had a breathy, constantly bored voice that grated on Dean's nerves. Right now, her dark eyes were following the line of Dean's chest and making their way lower. Though he had just taken a shower, Dean felt the need to scrub himself clean again.

Charlie entered the room from the kitchen, nudging Dean out of the way with her small hip.

"Look, ya chiseled tattooed loser," Charlie called over her shoulder, "We can't all have rockin' bods, so kindly cover yours and stop making us feel bad."

Dean felt himself flush with embarrassment, and heard Meg's breathy voice over the rattle of Charlie digging a movie out of the rack.

"You're welcome to strut around my place in a towel."

He curled his lip, heading to his room and pulling on his favorite sweats and a loose t-shirt, before returning to the living room. He wouldn't have been able to sleep, there was no point in trying to lay down. Gabe handed him a beer as he sat beside him on the couch, clinking his own against the neck of Dean's bottle. Dean glanced around, noticing the lack of a certain dark-haired man.

"Where's your brother?" Dean asked, turning to Gabe.

He grinned, pinching the cardboard stick between his teeth, "He should be here any minute. Miss him?"

Dean shoved his elbow into Gabe's ribs, "No, dick, you guys are just usually joined at the hip."

Gabe laughed, pulling the cardboard stick out of his mouth. He had long since finished the lollipop that was attached, and was just worrying the stick with his teeth.

"He's a grown man, Dean-O," Gabe shrugged, "He does his own thing sometimes."

Dean thought he heard a hint of defensiveness in Gabe's voice, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. As if on cue, the door opened and Castiel entered, hair tousled and shirt rumpled. His pale cheeks were flushed, eyes shining with excitement.

"You didn't start without me, did you?" He flopped on to the floor in front of Gabe's feet.

Dean caught a faint whiff of cigarette smoke as Castiel passed him.

"Didn't know you smoked, Cas," Dean grinned around his beer as he saw color spread up Castiel's neck.

It was attractive, the slow creep of pink crawling up from Castiel's collar.

"I don't," he cast a sharp glance in Dean's direction, "Must have picked it up on my clothes from work."

He opened his mouth to say more, but Charlie had pressed play on whatever movie she had picked out, shushing everyone in the room. Dean tried to focus on the screen and  _not_ on how close Castiel's hair was to where Dean's hand was resting on his knee. In the glow of the television, he could see a glare on the dark strands, like it was wet. He wanted to run his fingers through it, wanted to see if it was as soft as it looked. He clenched his fist against his knee.  _Pull your shit together, man,_ he thought angrily.

He heard a quick exhale from Gabe, almost like a laugh. Dean turned to find him staring at him, amused even in the darkness. Dean raised a questioning eyebrow, and was met with a wide, toothy grin. Gabe nodded down at Castiel, who was propped against his brother's shins, then flashed a pointed look at Dean's fist. Dean felt his face grow hot, his expression earning another silent laugh from Gabe. Dean stood, stalking in to the kitchen and motioning for Gabe to follow. He turned on the faucet, rinsing his now empty beer bottle, and left it running as he glared down at Gabe.

"What is your deal," he hissed.

"I'm not stupid Dean," Gabe raised an eyebrow at him, "You've got a thing for my brother."

"I don't!"

Gabe chuckled softly, crossing his arms, "You can't bullshit a bullshitter, Dean. I'm not judging," he held his palms up as Dean opened his mouth to protest again, "Frankly, I'd be happy if you guys hit it off. I like you. Never liked his exes. But, you're gonna have to come to him. He's been through a lot. Makes him.... Edgy, for lack of a better word."

Dean blinked, not sure how to respond. Gabe winked his strange, gold eye at Dean before turning back to the living room. Dean gripped the counter, glaring through the window of the kitchen and into the darkened living room. He watched as Gabe settled back in to his spot on the couch. Castiel was still on the floor, but in his brother's absence he had pulled his legs up against his chest, chin resting on his knees. For some reason, the sight of him curled up like a child, eyes wide as he watched the Quidditch match that was unfolding on the screen, made Dean smile. He looked so innocent, and dammit,  _cute_. He stood there a moment, just watching the other man's face. 

Who was he kidding, Gabe was right. As much as he hated to admit it, Dean was attracted to Castiel in a way he hadn't been attracted to the countless one-night stands he had. He wanted to know him, wanted to know what made him who he was. He wanted to know what Gabe had meant by "been through a lot." However, in the past few weeks, Castiel had seemed to want nothing to do with Dean. How was he supposed to get to know someone who barely spoke to him, who showed no  _interest_ in speaking to him? Dean felt himself getting frustrated, so he headed off to his room. He stared at the ceiling for some time, listening to the muffled sounds of the movie, trying to think of a way to get Cas to speak to him. He eventually drifted off, though his mind never seemed to truly settle.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the extra long chapter, I started typing and just couldn't seem to stop!

"I don't get it," Charlie eyed him skeptically, "Normally, I have to beg and practically  _drag_ you to Club Night, and this time you didn't even hesitate. Hell, you seem excited. What gives, Winchester? Not that I am complaining."

He avoided her eyes, focusing on making his hair stylishly messy, the way he liked it. He had been looking forward to this night ever since  he had decided he actually did want to get to know Castiel. Once a month, Charlie dragged her little band of friends to the only bar in the area that catered to nerds and outsiders, so aptly named  _The Sanctuary_. Charlie was friends with the owner, that was the only way Dean had even been allowed in to begin with. They had a specific client base, and weren't afraid to enforce it. Dean admired the owner, Jo Harvelle, for her dedication. She didn't seem the type externally, but no one would dare say that to her face. Dean had seen her on a few occasions  _literally_  throw out the odd jock that had managed to get in and cause problems, then jump right back in to a game of Dungeons & Dragons like it never happened. The main bouncer, Benny, was one of Dean's friends from the Circle, and Jo's fiance. Dean took a little pride in the fact that he introduced the fiery blond woman to powerful but easy-going Benny. They complimented each other, yet challenged each other at the same time. It made him slightly envious, the success of their relationship, but it was well out-weighed by his fondness for the pair.

"I don't know, Charlie," Dean shrugged, "I just felt the desire to go along. I want to get out and have a good time. Drink with friends, unwind. The Circle has been nuts recently."

Charlie narrowed her eyes, two green slits so similar to Dean's own, but said nothing. She simply reached over and mussed up his hair, grinning madly when Dean let out an exasperated cry.

A short while later, the group was gathered outside of the club, minus a certain pair of brothers. Dean glanced around, trying to be nonchalant as they waited. The knot in his stomach grew with every passing minute. What if Cas didn't show? Dean had put on his best jeans, a black button down over a white t-shirt, and his best boots, and he would feel pretty damn stupid if the one he wanted to look decent for didn't show up. He felt a clap on his shoulder, jolting him out of his thoughts. He turned to see Benny's wide grin, easily returning the smile.

"Good to see you, brother," came the slow, thick Louisiana drawl of Benny's voice.

Dean turned, gripping the man's thick forearm and pulled him into a quick hug. Benny was an imposing figure, roughly Dean's height but twice as stocky. His broad shoulders and thick, sculpted arms gave him a very intimidating appearance, but anyone who was close to him knew the truth: he was a closet teddy bear. Dean knew from experience he could be a quite dangerous opponent in a fight, he had almost lost to him himself. The fight had ended in a draw, a very rare occurrence, that left both of them bruised and out of commission for over a week. The two had quickly formed a friendship outside of the ring and agreed not to go against each other again.

"You too. I haven't seen you at any matches," Dean raised an eyebrow in question.

"Oh, I've been there," the other man chuckled, "You've just been chasin' skirts too much to notice."

Dean shrugged, flashing a crooked smile at his friend. Charlie came over then, wrapping her small arms around Benny in a tight hug.

"Y'all just gonna stand out here, or you gonna go in and have some fun?"

"We are still waiting on a couple of people," Charlie said as she released him. "Jo's here right?"

Benny's eyes rolled towards the dark sky, catching in the streetlight over head. "'Course she is. Broken wrist or not, that women hates to miss work. Just like her damn mama if ya ask me."

Behind Benny, Dean saw the familiar outline of the brothers approaching, and he felt a wave of relief. It was short lived, the anxious knot quickly reforming in Dean's gut. He had no idea how to initiate this. Sure, he could talk co-eds into bed left and right, but actually trying to  _know_ someone? He was at a loss. They quickly joined the group, Charlie not hesitating with the introductions. Gabe' small hand disappeared in Benny's handshake, drawing a laugh from the two. Castiel's shake was a little more reserved, though he gave a small grin. Dean was trying his best not to stare, but was having some trouble. Castiel was dressed simply, black jeans and a blue button down, much like Dean's, but the way the jeans hugged Cas' waist and the bare flesh visible beneath the open buttons at the top of his shirt were driving Dean's mind to all sorts of places. The dark hair was as wild as ever, and an equally dark stubble was spread across Castiel's jaw. Somehow, he always managed to look just disheveled enough to make Dean crazy. The knot in his gut twisted.  _God, help me_ , Dean thought.

~~

Inside the club was very different from normal bars. Sure, there were the typical dimmed bulbs and black lights, but the large room was covered with tables, with a very small space for those who wanted to dance. The large jukebox in the corner was new, full of both popular music and abstract songs Dean had never heard of. The tables that took up most of the space each had a theme varying from Super Mario to Five Night's At Freddy's, and the small lights that hung over each one were orange balls with darker orange stars in the middle from some anime that Dean never fully got in to. His group immediately split up, Kevin heading to a table with Castiel, pulling two closer together, and Charlie and Meg headed to the bar to chat with Jo, which left Dean standing with Gabe and Benny. As he knew they would, the two men rounded on him after everyone walked off.

"So, Dean-O, making an effort tonight?" Gabe winked at him.

"Didn't know you went that way Dean, but you were practically drooling," Benny said at the same time.

Dean rolled his eyes at both of them, "I don't even know where to start, guys."

Gabe shrugged, looking over at Benny, "I'm not much of a relationship type, so I'm really no help. What about you, big guy?"

Benny regarded Dean carefully, glancing back quickly at Castiel. Dean felt himself flush, but tried to force it away. Benny obviously knew a little something, it couldn't hurt to ask for advice.

"Well," he scratched his short beard thoughtfully, "How about with the basics? Likes, dislikes, things like that. It might seem dumb, I know I felt dumb when I started asking those questions to Jo, but it got easier the more we talked. I mean, y'all already hang together, it can't be too awful weird, right?"

Gabe laughed, "They sit in the same room, but neither one will initiate conversation. It's almost painful, watching the two of them gawk when the other isn't looking."

This threw Dean off. "Wait, Cas does that too?"

Gabe wiggled his eyebrows, turning and walking away without another word. Dean sighed in frustration, causing Benny to laugh as well.

"You got this, brother. You're over-thinkin' it."

Benny headed back to his spot just inside the door, leaving Dean alone to fester in his thoughts. He watched as Castiel and Kevin picked a long, black box from the stack of games in the corner and headed back to the table. He made his way over the bar, deciding to prolong his suffering by talking to Jo and helping the girls carry drinks back to the table. As he reached the bar, Jo handed him a tall whisky and coke, a small mischievous smile playing across her lips. He thanked her, taking a long sip and enjoying the burn in his throat. Dean eyed the combination of drinks on the tray before him, easily identifying who got what. Charlie and Meg both liked rum and pineapple juice while Kevin enjoyed some blue-green concoction dubbed 'Liquid Cocaine' that didn't seem to fit him at all, considering it contained a little of everything and Kevin was a fairly reserved and shy kid. The bright pink cocktail with a rock candy sucker sticking out, which made Dean want to brush his teeth just looking at, had to be Gabe's. The man had an unhealthy sugar addiction that Dean was sure was going to catch up to him one day. That left the simple, clear liquid with a mint leaf on top to Castiel. Dean picked it up off the tray as Charlie carried it away, ignoring the questioning looks he received. Jo flipped her wavy blond hair over her shoulder.

"Vodka and sprite." She clarified, "Not bad really. What's up with you? You seem, well, off."

"Just thinking is all," Dean glanced at her.

"Don't hurt yourself," she snorted, giving him another teasing smile to soften her words.

Dean walked away, flipping her off around the glass he held. He had a feeling the chair next to Castiel had been deliberately left empty, considering the pointed look Gabe gave him as he approached. He set Cas' drink down and slid into the seat, trying to fight the heat he felt rising to his cheeks. Cas looked down at the drink, and Dean swore he saw him flash a knowing grin at Gabe before reaching for it. Dean didn't have time to be confused, because as Castiel's hand curled around the glass, his index finger brushed the back of Dean's hand. That small touch transformed the tight, anxious knot that had settled in Dean's stomach into a frenzy of trapped butterflies, and he was sure if he opened his mouth they would fly out and fill the room. He turned his head slightly, and found that steady blue gaze trained on him. Before he could open his mouth to undoubtedly insert his heavy, booted foot, Charlie began passing out small, white cards and explaining whatever game they were about to play. Dean listened as best as he could, but Castiel, apparently, had a different game in mind.

Every so often, just as Dean would start to unwind the nervous twisting he felt coiled in him, Castiel would move and brush against his knee, or stir the air with his hand so Dean could smell his sweet, yet earthy cologne. Dean tried his best to concentrate on the game at hand, which had his friends dissolving into laughter at the ridiculous combinations of cards, but the deep, gravelly sound of Castiel's laugh distracted him every time. Dean cast a glance at Gabe, who was doing his best to look everywhere else.  _That fucker_ , Dean thought,  _he knew this was coming._

As the night wore on, and his friends had more to drink, Dean felt himself becoming less anxious. He knew it was mostly the whiskey, but he would take liquid confidence over none at all. Two could play the game Castiel had created, and dammit if Dean wasn't going to play. The next time Castiel reached for his drink, again letting his finger drift over Dean's skin, Dean turned slightly to hook his own finger over Cas'. He couldn't help the small flash of satisfaction as he felt Castiel pause briefly. Dean took the opportunity to brush against Castiel's leg, similar to what he had been doing to him before. A hint of a smile played across Castiel's features, and Dean felt victorious. The rest of the game continued as such, no one at the table with the exception of Gabe aware of the second game that was being played. Castiel gained the upper hand momentarily when he had to draw a card and deliberately reached for the deck on the other side of Dean, which caused the most amount of contact they'd had all night. Dean felt his heart in his throat, but used the fact that Castiel's neck was more or less in front of him to his advantage. He brought his free hand up to brush at his own hair, before dragging his hand across the back of Cas' neck and settling it casually on the back of the other man's chair. To anyone not paying attention, it looked as though Dean had simply stretched out his arm, but he could see the goosebumps spread almost instantly across Castiel's pale skin.

By the fourth round of drinks, Charlie was tired of the card game. She grabbed Meg by the hand and pulled her on to the small dance floor, picking a seemingly randowm song from the jukebox. Gabe and Kevin began a discussion on the dynamics of some show Dean couldn't quite place, which left Dean and Castiel sitting in a tense silence. He angled himself in his chair, arm still across the back of Castiel's own chair, and found those large blue eyes already trained on him. Castiel propped an elbow on the table and placed his hand on his chin, settling one finger across his lower lip. The movement distracted Dean, but he quickly composed himself.

"So," he began, nervousness quickly returning, "Tell me more about you?"

It sounded weak even to his own ears. He hoped Castiel would see what he was trying to do, not just brush him off. The softening in that intense blue gaze caused such a wave of relief Dean was amazed he didn't fall out of the chair. Castiel brought his other hand up, trailing lightly over Dean's arm where it still rested on the back of his chair. Again, the light touch sent a shiver through Dean. He glanced at Castiel's hand briefly, but quickly looked back at his face. The softness that had entered his face was gone, and Dean found it had been replaced by something much more intense.

"Do you  _really_ want to talk right now? Or can we save it for another day?"

Dean raised a questioning eyebrow, but instead of answering, Castiel downed the rest of his drink and headed out to the dance floor, not bothering to look over to see if Dean would follow. He cast a helpless glance at Gabe, who just shrugged before returning to his conversation with Kevin. Dean took a deep breath, shooting the rest of his own drink and followed Castiel. 

The lights were significantly dimmer over the dance floor, all of the yellow lights turned down and replaced with black lights. There were neon pain splatters across the floor which glowed brightly in the light. Charlie and Meg were dancing off to the left, an unfamiliar girl with long brown hair between them, and a small group of people separating them from where he and Castiel now stood. Cas didn't wait, he quickly began moving against Dean, losing himself in the steady beat of the music. Dean tried his best to keep up, but he never was much of a dancer. The glow of the lights threw rainbows off of Castiel's dark hair, and before Dean knew what he was doing, he reached up and ran his fingers through the shorter hair at the base of Castiel's skull. It was soft, almost like feathers, and the touch seemed to bring Castiel closer to him. Dean tried to let his mind and body just drift off with the music, like Cas was seeming to do, but he just couldn't. He didn't want to be so lost in the moment he did something wrong, causing the fascinating creature before him to go away. Apparently, however, this was not what Castiel was expecting. He stopped dancing, regarding Dean with a puzzled expression.

"So, you'll tease me around our friends, but when its just you and I on the dance floor, you hesitate to touch me?" Cas demanded.

Dean reached out, slowly pulling Cas against him again, "It's not like that, Cas. I just... I want to... I don't want to do something unwanted."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Dean," Castiel sighed angrily, rolling his eyes.

Dean started to protest, involuntarily tightening his grip in fear that Cas would pull away. Instead, Castiel grabbed Dean by the belt loops and pulled his hips against his own, and brought their lips crashing together. Dean blinked in surprise, but in a flash his arms snaked around Castiel's waist, and Dean lost himself like a raindrop lost in the vast, blue ocean. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay, I forgot to save the last time and lost the chapter. I had to rewrite it until I felt it sounded right, plus baby doctor appointments and working 90 million hours. Ugh. But! here it is! Sorry it's kind of short.

The bar, the music, the people, everything faded away. Dean felt as though he were floating with only Castiel's fingers through his belt loops to anchor him. The feel of Cas' lips on his own was better than Dean could have imagined, soft and warm but equally commanding. It was over all too soon, Castiel pulling back to look in to Dean's face. Dean swallowed, taking a deep breath to steady himself.

"I thought you didn't like me," Dean blurted out, "I mean, before tonight I didn't think-"

Again, Castiel rolled his eyes and pressed his mouth to Dean's, effectively cutting of any further babbling. Dean kissed back enthusiastically, but couldn't help the smile that spread across his lips. This time, as much as he hated it, Dean was the one to break the kiss.

"Are you just going to kiss me when I try to talk to you?"

Castiel grinned, "Only when you're saying something dumb. We can talk later, just shut up and enjoy it."

And that was all the invitation Dean needed. He wasn't sure who moved first, but before he knew it he was once again lost in the rolling tide that was Castiel. He could taste the sweet mint from Cas' drink, but there seemed to be an undertone of honey and spice and just _Castiel_. He had started moving with the beat of the music again, his hands sliding up from Dean's belt loops to travel slowly up his torso. He shivered as Castiel's fingers traced over the defined muscles of Dean's abdomen. He let one hand run up Castiel's side, fingers tracing lightly up the soft skin of his neck, to curl his fist through the thick, dark locks that he had been so drawn to. He felt more so than heard the groan that escaped from Castiel's throat, but it carried the same effect. Dean broke away from his lips, tracing kisses along Castiel's jaw, grazing his teeth against the rough stubble there. Castiel tilted his head, allowing Dean better access as he moved his mouth down over his throat. He wasn't sure how much of his longing was fueled by alcohol and how much was his own desires finally taking over, but Dean was too involved to care about such trivial things. He felt a hand tangle in his hair and he groaned, flexing his hips forward. He felt the grip in his hair tighten as Castiel matched his movements.

A loud whistle cut in to the haze that enveloped Dean, rudely jerking him back to Earth. His eyes flew open and he glanced around, Castiel taking his distraction as an invitation to trail his own kisses across Dean's throat. Castiel lingered at the crook of Dean's neck before he pulled away to look around as well. While most of the room was ignoring the couple, the group they came with was making quite a scene. Gabe, as always the source of the obnoxious whistle, was grinning so wide Dean thought his face would crack. Kevin's young, innocent face was flushed from the alcohol, but he was grinning right along with Gabe. Meg, Charlie, and the new brunette that was now attached to Charlie's small elbow had joined them at the table at some point, and Dean saw Meg's scowl as Charlie placed what looked like a twenty dollar bill into Gabe's palm.

Castiel chuckled, "Apparently, there was a bet."

Castiel pulled away, but wove his fingers through Dean's. Even with the anchor of Castiel's hand in his own, Dean couldn't help the tension that was returning to his stomach. Gabe had used his recent winnings to order another round of drinks, Dean quickly took his and chugged it, ignoring the burn of the whiskey. Charlie slipped under his arm, wrapping him in a side ways hug.

"Don't look so stressed, Dean," she said softly, obviously not wanting to be overheard, "We are your friends. I've known for a while, but I was waiting for you to be ready. Cas is a good guy. We are all happy for you."

Castiel laughed at something in the group had said, and Dean couldn't help but glance his way. Maybe it was the alcohol, or just his happiness from the earlier kiss, but Castiel looked almost ethereal under the multi-colored lights. His hair was still throwing rainbows, and his cheeks were cut by dimples that gave him an almost angelic appearance. He looked so carefree, laughing with their friends, drink in hand, that Dean felt like he was looking in from the outside. Like it wasn't real. For a split second, the thought of this being a cruel elaborate dream made Dean feel hollow. He gave an experimental squeeze of Cas' hand, and the fear was washed away when he felt the responding grip.

Charlie nudged him, "Relax, Dean."

So, he tried. He tried to relax. He lost count of how many more drinks he had, but eventually Jo cut him off. Dean laughed along with his friends, and Castiel kept a firm grip on Dean's hand. Finally, when Dean thought he would float down the road on a river of booze and soda, and the water Jo had been sending his way, the group headed home. The bar was just down the block from the apartment building, but the walk back felt like an adventure to Dean. He could hear his laughter echoing off the surrounding buildings, and the street lights were like mini-suns. All too soon, they were in the parking lot of the apartment building, Cas and Dean bringing up the rear as their friends headed inside. While the walk hadn't been too long, the cool night air had helped clear a little of the haze in Dean's mind. Castiel's hand was warm and solid in his own, but relaxed as though they had been doing this for years. Dean tightened his grip, spinning Castiel to face him. He stumbled slightly, and Dean cut off his surprised yelp with a kiss. He felt Castiel smile against his lips, returning the kiss eagerly, and placing his free hand on Dean's hip. He shivered slightly as Cas' cool fingertips brushed the small bit of skin that was visible.

For some reason, that small touch ignited a fire in Dean like he had never felt. The  _need_ that swept through his was overwhelming. He  _needed_ Cas against him,  _needed_ him under him,  _needed_ to make that deep, soothing voice rise in pleasure and beg...

He released Castiel's hand and gripped his waist, backing him against the brick wall of the building. Cas made a small noise, running his hands up Dean's chest to wrap his arms around his neck and tangle in his hair. He pulled slightly, as best as he could with Dean's hair being shorter, and deepened the kiss, his tongue flicking against Dean's in a slow, teasing dance that was opposite of the intense embrace their bodies were in. Dean groaned, his hands tightening like a vice on Castiel's waist, flexing his hips as he pulled Cas against him. Castiel gasped at the force of Dean's grip, and he instantly let go, afraid he had hurt him. The fire had been smothered by the thought of doing something wrong, something unwanted.

"I-I'm sorry," Dean breathed, "I-"

Castiel cut him off, "Don't be. You're not going to hurt me. At least, not in ways I won't enjoy."

Dean searched his face, fighting the urge to drag him up to his room and test that statement as the fire slowly crawled it's way back in to Dean's body at the thought. The alcohol mixing with his own pent up desires for Castiel were making self-control very difficult; Dean could feel the fine tremor in his muscles as he tried to focus. As much as he wanted to act on all of the feelings he had at that moment, Dean was just sober enough to know he wanted to do this, whatever it turned out to be, the right way.

Castiel's hands were still in Dean's hair, but he had released the tight grip and was just letting his fingers trace slow circles against Dean's scalp. Dean closed his eyes, leaning his head into Castiel's palm.

"Stay with me," Dean murmured.

The words were out before he even thought them. It was a strange feeling, being on  _that side_ of those words, and they hadn't even had sex. Dean didn't dare open his eyes, afraid of seeing the same dismissal he was sure the countless one-night stands had seen on his own face. He felt Cas breathe a small laugh, fingers tracing down from his scalp to his jaw.

"Doesn't that come after? And shouldn't I say that to you? I mean, your reputation precedes you, Dean. Hook up, then walk out. I hear things."

 His eyes flew open at that, and he tried to make his voice cooperate, but he couldn't find the words to say. Even in the faint light of the parking lot, he could see the glimmer of amusement in Castiel's eyes.

"You're different," Dean insisted, "I want... I want to talk about this inside. Not in the parking lot."

Dean backed away, welcoming the cold air that rushed in between them. He hoped it would help ease the burning he could still feel rolling in his chest. He held his hand out to Cas, hoping his face didn't look  _too_ pathetic. Castiel took Dean's hand, and they went in to the building together.

The apartment was dark already, though they hadn't been too far behind the group. Kevin was sprawled on the couch, like he had just barely made it, which was entirely possible. Charlie, of course, had covered him up with a blanket and gone to her room. The soft sound of voices told Dean she was awake, but not alone. He didn't recognize the voice, and he vaguely remembered the strange brunette tagging along when they were walking home. He led Cas down the hall to his own room and sat on the edge of his bed to take his boots off. Cas sat next to him, watching him expectantly. Dean felt the knot forming in his gut again, but he forced himself to ignore it.

"Cas, look, I like you. I want to know you, I want to get to know you. I don't want this to be like the rest, just a casual fuck to help with the stress or urges or whatever other reasons people use to justify hook-ups. I want... You. I want to be with you, if you'll have me," Dean looked down at his hands.

Castiel was quiet, but Dean couldn't bring himself to look up. After what felt like an eternity, Castiel reached out and slipped his hand through Dean's. He finally allowed himself to glance up at Cas.

"Then let's see where this goes, Dean," Cas smiled, "I'll stay."

Dean couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he pulled Castiel in for a kiss.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean woke the next morning entirely too warm. For a split second, the sound of breathing behind him and the arm slung over his waist caused him to panic, but the events of the previous night came rushing back to him. Castiel was in his bed.  _Castiel_ was in his bed, curled up against Dean's back and his arm around his waist like a child with an over-sized stuffed animal. Carefully, Dean turned so he was facing the still sleeping man beside him. Dean's room was fairly dark, thanks to the black-out curtains Sam had given him when he moved in, but he could still make out Castiel's face. Dean laid there for a few minutes, just watching him sleep. The smooth, pale skin now uninterrupted since Castiel had shed his shirt before crawling in to bed.

Though he had tried to be inconspicuous, he was sure Cas had seen him watching as he took off his shirt and jeans and hung them over the back of Dean's desk chair. Dean did his best not to gasp at the huge, intricate wings tattooed across Castiel's shoulders. They took up his whole back, the ends of the detailed black and grey wings disappearing under the fabric of his boxers. It was like someone had taken the wings from a raven, and pasted them on Castiel's back. However, it wasn't this sight that truly made Dean speechless. It was the long, raised scars that marred his skin. The wings covered them mostly, but they were still clear to anyone who took the time to look. They were scattered over his entire torso, chest and back. Dean had to literally bite his tongue to keep from asking about them, but he knew Castiel knew he'd seen them, and recognized them for what they were.

"Do the wings mean something?" Dean had asked as Castiel settled against Dean's chest.

"My parents are very religious, in case you couldn't tell by our names," he had shrugged, "I chose to embrace the name they gave me. What good is an angel without wings? I can't be 'the cover of God' if I can't get there."

He had then traced the line of music notes that stretched from Dean's right hip, up his ribs, and ended just below his collarbone. Dean had shivered at the touch.

"It's the music for  _Hey Jude_. My mom used to sing it to me when I was little, it was her favorite song. She died a few years after Sammy was born. Pancreatic cancer," Dean had answered, sensing the question before it was even voiced.

Castiel stirring brought Dean back to the present.

"Why are you staring at me," Castiel grumbled, his voice rough from sleep.

"I wasn't  _staring_ , I was just looking. Staring is what you do, ya know, all of the time."

Castiel smiled, cracking one blue eye open slightly, "So, where do I rank on the 'hot people that have been in Dean Winchester's bed' list?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "Number one, considering how short that list is. There's never been anyone in my bed but me."

Castiel opened both eyes this time, his brow furrowing in confusion, "You've never had a partner in your bed?"

"They've never even been in my room," Dean shrugged, trying to think of a way to turn the conversation away from that part of his life. He leaned over and kissed Castiel on the forehead, "You're different. What do you want for breakfast?"

~~

 Dean never thought he would enjoy "domestic" life. It had been almost a week since Castiel spent the night, and he had been there every night since. Dean found himself enjoying all of the things he had made fun of Sam for with his live-in girlfriend Jessica. So, the first night Castiel had to go to work, Dean was more than a little bummed. Cas had picked up a job at some obscure night club in the city, Dean wasn't sure which one and didn't want to press for answers. If Cas wanted him to know, he would tell him. Still, the thought of Castiel by himself at night in the city at some unknown club made Dean uneasy. He knew Cas was capable of taking care of himself, but Dean couldn't help the protective streak that seemed to be part of who he was. Like with Charlie and Sam, Castiel was now part of Dean's world and that meant he was Dean's to look after, whether he knew it or not. The scars that covered Castiel's pale skin still troubled Dean, but he wasn't going to ask about them. He just had to make sure that whatever had caused them never happened again.

"Don't pout," Castiel teased as Dean poured them both a cup of coffee.

"Hey, I'm a man. Men don't pout." Dean defended himself.

Castiel said nothing, but cast a pointed look at Charlie. Charlie, of course, was ecstatic that Castiel was there. She had gushed that first morning when she had walked in the kitchen and found the two of them at the small table. She had babbled about them being a great couple for a solid 10 minutes, even though they hadn't had any sort of discussion about their "status" yet.

"You look awfully pouty to me," Charlie chimed in, looking innocently up at Dean.

"Oh, screw you both," Dean grumbled.

The rest of the day passed far too quickly for Dean's liking. He felt like they had just rolled out of bed and then suddenly it was time for Cas to leave. He looped one arm around Cas' waist as he walked by, spinning him around and pressing his back against the wall as he kissed him deeply. Cas responded eagerly, hooking his fingers through Dean's belt loops and pulling him closer.

"Dean," he murmured between kisses, "I have to go. I can't get fired."

Dean growled low in his throat, placing one final kiss on Castiel's forehead before moving away. Cas chuckled, closing the door behind him as he left. Dean dropped ungracefully on the couch, sprawling out obnoxiously just to agitate Charlie, who occupied the other end of the couch. She huffed, indignant, and gave his leg an annoyed swat.

"So, what are we doing tonight?" He nudged the book she was reading with his toe.

" _We_ aren't doing anything right now.  _I_ am trying to reread Harry Potter."

"Let's have a movie night or something," Dean wheedled.

Charlie glanced at him over the edge of her book, regarding him carefully. Dean flashed her his crooked grin, and she returned a smile almost instantly.

"We could have a Marvel marathon," Charlie wiggled out from under Dean's foot and moved over to the wall of movies they owned.

Soon, the whole group was in their living room, minus Castiel of course. Dean tried to focus on the movies, but found his eyes wandering to the clock. He actually enjoyed the Marvel movies, though tried not to compare them to the comics they were based off of. After the first few movies, Dean felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Crowley's name flashed across the screen, and Dean stepped in to the kitchen to answer it.

"Yeah?" Dean said, keeping his voice low.

"Squirrel," Crowley crowed somewhat affectionately, "Up for a match tomorrow?"

Dean rolled his eyes at the confusing nickname, but quickly agreed.

"10 pm, Washington Hall basement. Some new guy, his rep called him 'Angel'" Crowley scoffed at the name.

Dean snorted, "Well, alright then."

"See you tomorrow, Squirrel. And, try not to crush the boy too much. I know how you get when people are too cocky."

Dean made his way back in to the living room after Crowley disconnected, dropping back to the couch. Gabe shot him a glare as some of his beer splashed on to his lap. Dean grinned at him, unapologetic. Gabe rolled his eyes, casually wiping his wet hand across the front of Dean's shirt, causing him to grimace. He glanced at the clock again, hand itching to text Cas. He was determined not to be  _that guy_ , that clingy, needy partner that had turned him off of relationships in the first place. He couldn't stand  _those_ types of people. Sam had seen his fair share of clingy women, and Dean had been forced to watch as they sucked the life out of his little brother, whose heart was far too big for his own good. Sam would finally get free, only to be roped in by another pretty smile. It was tiresome, and Dean flat out refused to be involved in anything like it. So, he gritted his teeth and drank with Gabe, trying to stay focused on the movies playing out in front of him.

~~

Eventually, everyone in the living room fell asleep, leaving Dean alone for the most part. He switched off the tv after the credits rolled on  _Thor: The Dark World_ and made his way in to the bathroom. According to the clock, Cas still had an hour or so in his shift, and Dean was restless. He hoped the hot water would help him relax enough to maybe sleep until Cas returned. He stood under the pounding spray, rolling his neck against the heat. He was so caught up in the feel of the water across the knots in his shoulders, he didn't hear the door open or the soft glide of the curtain. So, when a cold pair of hands touched his hips, his reaction was to whirl around, gripping the intruder by the throat with his fist poised and ready. He blinked in confusion as he found himself under the steady, amused blue gaze of Castiel. He dropped his hand instantly, raking his fingers through his hair.

"Dammit, Cas," he spat, "You can't sneak up on me like that."

"Apparently, I can," he grinned, eyeing Dean slowly.

Dean flushed, "Thought you were working till 2."

Castiel shrugged, stepping closer to Dean, "Came back early. It was dead, Balthazar wanted some extra hours. I can leave, if you want."

Dean reached out almost instinctively, wrapping his hands around Castiel's wrists, "No, don't."

Cas looked down to where Dean was holding his wrists, grinning as his eyes traveled lower. Dean felt heat that had nothing to do with the water spreading through him. He tried to control his thoughts, keep his breathing steady, as the situation finally sank in. He was in the shower, with Castiel. Castiel had  _joined him_ in the shower. Dean let go of Castiel's wrists, and met his gaze once again. Dean felt his heart in his throat as Cas leaned in, pressing his mouth to Dean's. Compared to the heat of the water, Cas' mouth was like ice. Dean felt his hands roving over his heated skin and he shivered at the touch.

"You're freezing, Cas," Dean mumbled as he trailed his lips over the skin of Cas' neck.

"Got off at the wrong stop," He answered, tilting his head to give Dean better access, curling his fingers in Dean's hair.

Dean hummed against Cas' neck, pulling him close against him. He could feel Castiel's erection pressed against his thigh and felt his own twitch at the sensation. Castiel breathed a soft laugh in Dean's ear. He felt the familiar fire burning through him as he continued moving his lips over Cas' neck. He brushed the edge of one of the scars at the top Cas' shoulder and felt him stiffen slightly. He stopped, pulling back and looking in to the blue eyes he had come to adore so much.

"What happened?" He asked before he could catch himself.

Cas dropped his eyes, "An ex. It's nothing, Dean. Really. It was a while ago. Just took me by surprise is all, I haven't been this close to anyone since... I mean, I've hooked up but that was just casual, not a lot of intimacy."

Dean traced his hands lightly down Castiel's chest, fingers brushing over the raised scar tissue, earning a shiver from the other man.

"We don't have to do anything you don't want, Castiel," he said softly.

Cas' eyes snapped back to Dean's face, shining mischievously once again. Whatever darkness had flitted over them moments ago was long gone, and Dean wasn't prepared for the bruising kiss Castiel trapped his lips in. He curled his fist in Dean's hair almost desperately, teeth grazing against Dean's lower lip. Dean responded immediately, turning to press Cas against the wall of the shower roughly, pinning him with his hips. Castiel gasped softly, placing one hand on Dean's chest. Dean didn't move, his arms trembling slightly as he fought the urge to throw Castiel over the bathroom counter.

"I don't know how else to show you I want this," Castiel breathed, his voice low and husky.

Dean nodded, "How do you want to do this, then?"

"I don't want you to ask, Dean. You think too much," he grinned wickedly at him.

Castiel's words were a clear invitation to Dean, and for a moment Dean let him enjoy feeling like he had the upper hand. He could see in Castiel's eyes that he thought he had won, had thrown Dean off, but Dean was just trying to form a plan. He knew the group was still asleep in the living room, and as funny as it would be, Dean didn't think they would appreciate the noise Dean intended to make. He turned off the water, stepping out and handing Cas a towel before wrapping one around his own waist and heading to his bedroom. He could just barely hear Cas' soft footsteps behind him, and he heard the door click shut as he turned his speakers on. He didn't care what was playing, as long as there was noise. He turned back to Cas, who was still wearing that triumphant smile. Without a word, Dean threw their towels on the bed, grabbing Castiel by his hips and pulling him in for a deep, passionate kiss. He walked the two of them over to the edge of his dresser, pressing Castiel against it as he fumbled in the top drawer for a bottle of lubricant. He closed his fist around one, setting it on the surface of the dresser and gripping Cas' hips once again, all while their tongues engaged in a slow, teasing dance.

Cas drew away for a breath, and Dean used that moment to spin him around, pressing his palm between his shoulder blades and pushing him down against the wood of the dresser. Cas' eyes went wide as Dean, clearly visible in the mirror, slicked his fingers with the lube and pressed to Cas' entrance. He slid one finger in slowly, watching as Cas' eyes fluttered shut. Dean moved in and out slowly, adding first one, then two additional fingers. Cas groaned as Dean worked him, while Dean used his free hand to apply lube along his length. Without warning, Dean pulled his fingers from Castiel and lined the head of his dick against his now waiting hole. He gave Cas a moment to prepare, and slid agonizingly slow in to the tight warmth, watching Cas' face in the mirror the whole time. The way Cas' eyes fluttered open then squeezed shut, the way his brow furrowed, and the way he bit his lower lip were so distracting and  _sexy_ Dean couldn't look away. Finally, he sheathed his entire length into Castiel. He felt him shiver, and the pulsating of the muscles as they tried to adapt to the intrusion. Dean waited a moment, wanting to let Castiel adjust before he  _finally_ got to act on the urges he'd had since that first night. Cas started to flex his hips back, but Dean held him still in a tight grip. He opened his eyes and started to protest, but Dean rocked forward sharply and pulled his hip backwards simultaneously, turning whatever he had been about to say into a small moan.

"You said I think too much," Dean growled, rocking forward again and  earning another small sound from Cas, "Well, I've been thinking about  _this,"_ another rock, "for a while."

Dean drew out him then, just as slow as when he entered, stopping right at the edge, not fully pulling out. He felt Cas' muscles pulse again, and Dean grinned. Castiel opened his mouth to say something, and Dean slammed his full length back in to him, once again turning his words into a pleasured cry. Dean didn't stop this time, drawing in and out of Castiel in a harsh, steady rhythm. He gripped Cas' hips tighter, pulling him back with every thrust forward, watching his face in the mirror. Dean had never really had the desire to watch someone's expressions during sex, but he found Castiel's face almost impossible to look away from. He drew himself out, bending his knees a little to accommodate their fairly similar heights, before plunging back in. This time, Cas' eyes snapped open, pupils blown wide as he tried to focus, and Dean knew he had found the spot he'd been looking for. He once again set himself into a brutal pace, barely giving Cas time to recover before he slammed against his prostate over and over. 

The moans coming from Castiel's throat were undeniably audible over the music Dean had played, but he didn't care at this point. All that mattered was  _Cas,_ the sounds he made and the feel of him around Dean's own sensitive skin. He felt the burning coil beginning to form in his abdomen, and he could feel his thrusts becoming more demanding. He felt the pressure building more and more, and just before he felt the coil snap, Dean buried himself as far as he could inside Castiel. He stayed there for a moment, reaching around to take Castiel's throbbing cock in his hand. He began to rock, never fully leaving the area of Cas' prostate, and stroked Castiel to the same rhythm. Cas mewled softly, gripping the edge of the dresser so tight his knuckles were white. Dean could feel his legs beginning to tremble as his body tensed, unknowingly applying more pressure as he relied on Dean to hold him up. Dean could feel the pressure just under his skin, he wasn't going to last much longer. He could tell Cas wasn't going to either.

"Look at me," Dean groaned, "Look at me, Cas. I want to see you."

It took a moment, but Cas' wild blue eyes met Dean's in the mirror, and Dean felt the coil snap at last. He worked through his release, still rocking deep inside of Castiel. Dean felt Cas' dick throb in his hand, and the warm, sticky liquid splashed over his fingers. They stayed there a moment, both panting and watching each other in the mirror. Dean grinned, slowly pulling out of Cas and drawing a shuddering gasp from his lips. He leaned over, placing a soft kiss between Cas' shoulder blades before turning to grab his towel and turn off the music. He cleaned himself off quickly and handed Cas the towel. His hands were trembling as he took the towel from Dean, but he flashed him a slightly dazed smile.

"What?" Dean asked, sprawling out on the bed, not even bothering to dress.

"Why have we not done that before?" Castiel laughed, falling on to the bed beside Dean.

He laid his head on Dean's chest over his heart, the two of them still trying to catch their breath.

"Well, I was kind of waiting on you," Dean admitted. "I told you, I want more than just a casual hook up. I want you, and so I figured I'd wait till you made the first move. It wasn't that I didn't want to, obviously."

Castiel hummed, but said nothing. They laid there in silence, slowly drifting off to sleep.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, I had oral surgery and recovery has been a pain, literally. This chapter gets a little into domestic abuse, emotional and mental and physical. Just remember, no matter what anyone tells you, it is never your fault and you most certainly do not deserve to be mistreated. People care, there is help out there.

Dean couldn't breathe. It was like his opponent had knocked all the air from his lungs with one hard punch, yet they hadn't touched each other. Hell, the horn hadn't even been blown. The noise, the crowd, the dusty basement with its flickering lights and musty smell all faded away to nothing. There was utter silence, and Dean saw nothing but the clear, equally confused gaze of Castiel from the opposite side of the ring.

~~

The day had started on an incredible note. Dean woke to the feel of Castiel's bare skin against his own, his soft, even breaths tickling across his chest. At some point during the night, the sheets had been pushed off of the bed completely. He smiled as he recalled the lazy, half-asleep round of kissing and gentle exploration that had occurred some time after the intense sex scene that left them both feeling languid and exhausted. It was new for Dean, the soft touches and gentle kisses that Castiel had trailed over his skin. He was used to mostly being ignored, except for that one body part that he knew how to use so well. Sure, he had received plenty of blow jobs in his conquests, but none had ever felt that  _amazing_.

On the other hand, he had never been on the giving end of those soft caresses, he had never felt the desire to. He had never wanted to feel every inch of someone's skin under his lips, yet he did just that with Castiel. He moved even slower over Castiel's body than Cas had done his own, taking the time to kiss over every raised scar that adorned the white flesh. It hurt his heart and infuriated him at the same time that someone could do that to another human being, least of all  _his_ Castiel. Whether he admitted it out loud or not, that's how Dean saw Cas now, as his. Not his in a possessive "I own you because we had sex" kind of way, but his in a "I care for and respect this human and I'll remain by his side until told to leave" kind of way. Castiel's happiness and well-being was as important to Dean as Charlie's or Sam's, and he would fight anyone who attempted to harm his loved ones with his last breath.

They had eventually gone back to sleep, too tired and comfortable in each other's arms to fight the heavy wave that swept over them.

The day had continued to be a good one, though Gabe looked a little embarrassed as he sipped his coffee across from Dean, whose fingers had left bruises across his brothers hip bones the night before. Charlie, who had yet to see Castiel shirtless, had gasped at the sight of his scars, her large green eyes filling up with tears. Cas had soothed her, assuring her it was a long time ago and very much behind him.

"He's back home," Cas said softly, looking earnestly into Charlie's concerned face, "He doesn't know where I am, and he won't find out. I've stopped letting them bother me, Charlie. I tattooed over them to show that I am stronger than what happened to me."

The four of them spent the day in the apartment, watching movies and goofing around just like every other day. Dean was happy, and even when Cas left for work that evening, he didn't let his absence bother him too much because he had promised to return after his shift, and gave Dean a long, passionate kiss before he left. Dean got ready for his fight and headed to the venue just like normal.

It had been more crowded than usual, but that happened if there was a promising new fighter. Crowley had been beside himself with the turn out. Dean didn't pay much attention to the crowd, although if he had, he might not have been so blindsided.

~~

The two men stared at each other, neither seeming to know what to do next. The horn blasted in Dean's ear, but his muscles felt locked in to place. Castiel didn't move from his side of the ring either. The sounds slowly made their way back to Dean's brain, but he didn't really care. The crowd was growing impatient, anxious to see who would make the first move. Cas turned away, reaching for his shirt and motioning a forfeit, but his rep, a large, imposing man with a self-important air about him, placed his hand on Cas' chest and shoved him into the ring. He stumbled, but caught himself quickly. Dean's lip curled, and he moved inside the ring himself, though he brushed right past Cas and grabbed his rep by the shirt.

"Don't fucking touch him," he snarled.

There was a brief look of smug amusement in his eyes, like Dean had missed a very funny joke, right before Dean smashed a heavy fist into his face. Blood spurted from his clearly broken nose, but Dean didn't stop. He felt hands on him, trying to pull him away, and he lashed out, knocking whoever it was to the side. Crowley was suddenly on Dean's left, and Benny on his right. The each grabbed an arm, while someone else wrenched the bloodied, beaten rep from Dean's grip. The two men literally  _dragged_ Dean away, his feet scraping against the concrete of the floor.

"Calm down, brother," Benny's voice was low in his ear, "Fightin' him won't do no good."

"What the bloody hell was that?" Crowley demanded.

Dean didn't respond to either one of them, his eyes searching the now frenzied crowd for Castiel. He was crouched beside his rep, pressing a rag to his face to try and staunch the crimson flow from his nose, speaking very quickly. Dean couldn't even try to hear what he said, not with everyone yelling the way they were. He saw the man's face twist at something Castiel said, and he pointed a large finger towards Cas' face, then over at Dean, speaking around the mess Dean had made of his face. Castiel looked over to where Dean stood, still restrained, with a helpless glance. Even at this distance, Dean could see the  _fear_ in those blue eyes, though it wasn't because of Dean. His rep had some sort of hold over Castiel, Dean could tell with out a doubt. Castiel rose, crossing the empty ring to stand in front of Dean. Benny and Crowley let him go, but they both stayed close, ready to grab him at a moments notice. Dean couldn't tell the difference between the roar of the crowd and the blood pounding in his ears as he and Castiel stood facing each other.

"Dean," Cas said over the noise, "If I don't bad things will happen. He- He knows the person who did  _this_ ," he gestured to his scars, "he'll tell him where I am."

Dean's blood boiled again, "Fuck him, Cas. Let him."

Castiel raked his hands through his hair, "You don't understand-"

Dean cut him off, grabbing his wrists, "Not here, Cas. Let's go."

He could see the turmoil in Cas' eyes, could see how afraid he was of this shadow that haunted him. He glanced back at his rep, who now stood glaring at them, then back at Dean. For a second, Dean thought Castiel would go through with what the guy wanted, but after what seemed like an eternity he nodded, and the two of them walked through the crowd, Benny and Crowley on their heels.

"Dean, I hate to be a dick," Crowley looked back at the crowd as they ascended the stairs leading out of the basement, "But these people have given me money for a fight."

"So arrange another one Crowley," Dean snapped, "I'm not fighting Cas. Hell, line me up with his rep. I'll give 'em a good show."

An exasperated sigh was the only response he got. Crowley wasn't a friend, but he wasn't  _not_ a friend. This might mess up Dean's spot in the ring, but he didn't care at this point. All he cared about was Castiel, and making that panicked look in his eyes disappear. He was standing close to Dean, but not as close as Dean wanted him. Dean wanted to hold him, to protect him from anything that might come their way.

"Line me up with someone Crowley," Benny shrugged, "I'm already here. Let's give these boys a minute, eh?"

He clapped Dean on the shoulder before turning away and going back down the steps. Crowley cast a look after him, then back at Dean. Dean knew his face was anything but friendly, so Crowley turned without a word and followed after Benny. Dean and Cas stood in the cool night air, neither speaking. Dean took a deep breath to try and calm his nerves. Everything in him screamed to turn around, go back in and beat the smugness out of whoever that guy was, but the logical part of his brain knew that this is where he needed to be.

"Dean," Cas began, looking at him helplessly, "I didn't know it was against you. I knew you did  _this_ , I've seen you, but I didn't know Raphael had pitted me against you. He just said it was someone who was really good, and if I won it'd be a great pay out. Then I saw you, and I tried to forfeit and, well..."

"Cas, what the hell?" Dean demanded, "How did you even get in to this?"

There was a guarded look in his eyes as he regarded Dean, chewing on his lower lip. The silence grew, and with every passing second Dean felt himself getting more and more upset. It was as though Castiel didn't  _want_ to tell him, like he didn't trust him with this part of his life. Cas slipped his hand into Dean's, a lifeline in his downward descent into whatever overwhelming emotion was trying to drag him over the edge.

"Let's talk about this at home, okay?"

~~

Thankfully, the apartment was empty when they returned, though Dean felt Cas had something to do with it. They settled at the table, facing each other. Castiel looked down after a few minutes, trailing his fingers along the wood.

"Raphael came to the bar. As far as I know, it was just chance. At first I thought he didn't recognize me, but of course that was too much to hope for. He cornered me, I tried to fight him off but... He told me that Bart was looking for me, and that if I did what he wanted, he wouldn't tell him where I was. I gave up so much to get here, Dean," Cas looked up at Dean, eyes pleading, "Gabe too. Gabe came with me, knowing full well that our family would disown him too, but he came. He cared more about my safety and well-being than some stupid agreement our family had made. I couldn't risk it all being for nothing."

Dean's brow furrowed in confusion, "What agreement? What's that got to do with anything?"

Cas raked his fingers through his hair, "My family is very old-time religious. Like, live in a gated, convent-style town with religion based government and all that. Everyone there is sinfully rich, so they more or less were left alone by outsiders. My parents weren't exactly  _accepting_ of what I am, and tried to 'fix' me. They thought arranging a marriage to their pastor's daughter would help, but it didn't. The pastor's son was equally, ah,  _afflicted_ as they called it. He knew the kind of person he was, sadistic and twisted, and figured that by shacking me up with  _him_ , it'd cure me. Show me just how  _evil_ it was to be gay, and it would scare me straight."

Dean fought to control his expression as the rage and horror waged an all out war inside his head, but Castiel's eyes were far away from the small kitchen and Dean.

"At first, it wasn't so bad. Bart was good at hiding what he was, made me believe he wasn't what his family said. Once I thought that I had found a decent relationship, he flipped and it was all downhill from there. But by that time, I was so brainwashed I believed I deserved it. That's what he always told me, that if I had just done what I was supposed to that I wouldn't be 'punished' as he called it. He said a lot of things," his smile turned bitter, "But he convinced me that it was what I deserved and what God wanted for me. He basically owned me. I was so desperate for the good man I thought he was, I put up with whatever he wanted. He convinced me that he was as good as it got, and that we would be happy together as long as I did what I was told. Took on the role of the 'meek wife' as he put it. My family was blissfully unaware, thinking I was in therapy, because that's what the pastor told them, that Bart was a therapist specializing in cases like mine. Gabe was the only one who cared enough to find out the truth. And when he did, and exposed it all to my parents, they told him to stay out of it and let God handle it. I was so brainwashed it didn't matter anyway. It wasn't until just before the convention that Gabe was able to get through to me."

"How?" Dean asked softly, his voice steady thankfully.

"He took me out for my birthday," Cas chuckled, "Took me out of town to a gay bar, of all places. It was some sort of couples night, and the sight woke me up just enough to plan. It was a fight for me to go anywhere, even with family, but Bart eventually agreed and we came here to the convention, scoping out the area. Figured it was big enough for us to hide, and met Charlie, which was actually a big part of it. She was so warm and inviting, even then, to both of us. She stuck to us the whole time, and we knew that this place was going to be safe for us."

Dean smiled at the thought of little Charlie being such an influence on two lives just by being herself.

"So, we waited and Gabe arranged everything. We went a few different places before coming here just to be safe, I tattooed over the scars on my back, and now we're here. So, after all that work, and our family disowning us, I couldn't let Raphael destroy it all. So I did what he said," his eyes fell again, "Not just fighting. Escorting every now and then, before you and I... Things that made him money. I got a cut, but I didn't really care about that part as long as we were safe."

Any good feeling Dean had was gone, and the rage was back with full force. His fist slammed on the table, the sudden force causing Castiel to jump in surprise.

"Dammit, Cas," he growled, "What the fuck? This is okay to you? You didn't feel the need to mention  _any_ of this to anyone? Does Gabe know?"

Cas shook his head, "Gabe knows I've been doing odd jobs for someone who recognized me, knows about the fighting. But that's all. I didn't want to worry him. Or anyone else. I saw you that first night, and I've made a point to stay out of your sight. And Benny's. No one else would recognize me."

Dean felt the muscle in his jaw working as he fought to control himself. He didn't know what to do, what to say. He wanted to hunt down everyone, scour the city for Raphael and paint the street with his face, then find this Bart person and inflict every horror imaginable. He wanted to shake Gabe, and Castiel, for being so damn  _stupid_  and being manipulated by this asshole. Dean scrubbed his hands over his face, sighing angrily. He heard Castiel rise from his chair, and when Dean opened his eyes, Cas was knelt down in front of him. Dean blinked in surprise.

"Cas, what're you-"

"Dean," he cut him off, "Please. Don't be angry with me. Or Gabriel. I'm already stressed, I'm sure Raphael will make good on his word. I need you on my side. I could have started that fight, you know. I could have done what he wanted. It would have killed me, but I could have. But I didn't. I chose you. I chose to have faith in you."

He placed a hand on Dean's knee, and Dean felt the rolling anger in him diminish slightly. He looked over him slowly, taking his hand between his own. He stood and pulled Cas to his feet and against his chest. He wrapped his arms around Castiel, who pressed his face into the crook of Dean's neck.

"No more secrets, Cas," Dean murmured. "I mean it. I don't care if it pisses me off, or how you think I'll feel about it."

Cas nodded his agreement, but said nothing. Dean wasn't sure who moved first, but soon the two of them were kissing, and the world faded away.


	8. Chapter 8

_Castiel squeezed his eyes shut, clenching his teeth around the thick strip of leather that had been placed between them. He knew what was coming next, but the knowledge did nothing to prepare him for the stabbing pain as Bart forced his way inside of him. He had barely used any lubrication, and of course had neglected to get Castiel ready for him. He didn't make a sound. He knew the noise would spur Bart on, make him want to drag it out. He couldn't help the shiver that went through him as he felt the cold blade against his skin._

_"If you would just do as your told, Castiel, I wouldn't have to punish you." Bart said quietly. "If you had just stayed home..."_

_Bart began moving then, dragging himself in and out of Castiel over and over, tears springing to the corner of his eyes as Bart moved. The blade bit into Cas' skin and he couldn't help the small sound that came from his throat. He felt the blood trickle down his back, and felt the knife move to a new place of unmarked skin. He felt the sharp pain again, more blood, and he fought to keep quiet._

_"Bloodletting will help you, Castiel." Bart's soft voice was completely opposite of the brutal pace he was setting, "It will help expel the darkness in you."_

_Cas heard the door open, and Bart stilled. Castiel trembled at the sudden stillness, the semi-absence of pain, his body going slightly limp against the mattress he was strapped to. His wrists were slick with sweat, rubbing uncomfortably against the leather restraints._

_"Your father requests your company, Bart," came a low voice, slightly amused at the sight before him._

_Bart drew out of Castiel, causing him to gasp at the relief. He felt a hand on his head and he opened his eyes, staring in to Bart's cold blue gaze._

_"I'll be back, love," he caressed his cheek slowly, "Raphael will take over your punishment, and I'll see you this evening for dinner. Do try and be good for him, you know I see my friend as an extension of myself, so being disrespectful to him is just like disrespecting me."_

_Castiel's heart pounded in his chest, blood rushing in his ears as Bart turned away from him. He felt utterly defeated, and even the small glimmer of hope that his weekend with Gabriel had given him started to fade as he heard Raphael undo his belt. He felt the bed give under Raphael's weight, and he felt bile rise in his throat when he closed his hand over the back of Castiel's neck._

_He leaned up, teeth grazing the edge of Cas' ear as he pressed into him, "You should misbehave more often."_

_~~_

Cas thrashed in his sleep. causing Dean to jerk awake. It had been a week since their not-fight and Castiel's confession, and every night since Castiel had been plagued with nightmares. Though he wouldn't admit it, Dean could see just how much they drained him. His eyes, which always seemed to bear a light shadow beneath them, were now scarily black and sunken. Dean had been taking him to work, hanging around both inside and outside of the bar. Castiel was himself for the most part, just more tired.

Dean placed a hand on Cas' arm, and the other man's eyes flew open, wild and scared.

"It's just me, Cas," Dean soothed, "You were dreaming."

Castiel was panting, a thin sheen of sweat on his face. He stared up at Dean, panic slowly fading from his eyes.

"I'm sorry I woke you, Dean," he said, voice rough from sleep.

Dean pulled him against his chest, pressing his lips to the top of his head, "It's alright. Wanna talk about it?"

Cas was silent for a moment. He had been telling Dean a little about his nightmares, explaining they were mostly just memories from before. He had stopped having them shortly after he and Gabe had moved in to their apartment, but the looming threat of Bart making an appearance had brought them back with a vengeance. Dean almost wished he would show up, just so he could have something to  _fight_. He couldn't attack dreams. He felt powerless.

Castiel stretched his neck up, trapping Dean's lips in a soft kiss. Dean responded just as tenderly, one hand stroking the side of Cas' face. He could feel the fine trembling of Castiel's muscles, and Dean pulled him tighter against his chest. His fingers knotted in Dean's hair, deepening the kiss into something much more urgent. His tongue traced along Dean's, like he was trying to disappear into the kiss. He ran his hands over Dean's torso, moving so he was settled on top of him.

"Cas," Dean mumbled in between kisses, "What-"

Cas cut him off with another kiss, gathering the fabric of Dean's boxers in his hand and pulling. Dean broke away and grabbed Cas' wrists.

"Hey, hey, wait a minute," Dean gathered both Cas' wrists in one hand and used the other to grip the bottom of his chin, "What's going on, Cas?"

The pain in Castiel's gaze cut through Dean like a hot knife.

"I need this, Dean, I need  _you._ I need to feel  _something_ good. I need to feel..." he trailed off, biting his lower lip.

"Loved," Dean whispered, surprising even himself with the word.

Castiel blinked at him, and Dean eased his grip on his wrists. Neither of them moved for a moment, that one word hanging heavily in the air between them. Dean had never said that word to anyone outside of family. Castiel leaned forward, pressing his lips to Dean's again, and Dean responded immediately. He wasn't sure who initiated, but soon there was nothing between the two of them but the thinnest bit of air, and even that seemed to be too much. Dean rolled so he was on top, settled between Cas' thighs as he fumbled in the bedside table for a bottle. Just as his hand closed on the lubricant, he felt Cas' hand wrap around the sensitive skin of his cock, He gasped at Cas stroked him, groaning as he flexed his hips.

Unlike their last sexual encounter, which seemed ridiculously far away in Dean's mind, though in reality it had only been a week, Dean didn't want rough. Dean kissed his way down Cas' neck, mirroring his motions and earning a sigh from Cas' lips. His free hand curled in Dean's hair, grinding his hips slowly, moving with the rhythm of Dean's hand.

"Dean," he sighed softly.

Dean moved back to Cas' lips, silencing him as he slicked his fingers and traced over Cas' opening. He moaned as Dean worked him open, lingering for a moment before slowly sinking his length into him. Dean drew back, watching Castiel's face. Once he was seated fully inside, he placed one hand against Cas' cheek, running his thumb over his lower lip. His eyes fluttered open and locked on to Dean's, swirling blue meeting intense green. Dean continued watching Cas' face as he moved slowly, taking his time and putting every ounce of emotion he could into every slow but firm thrust. Cas' eyes eventually closed again, and Dean trailed kisses and light nips down the soft skin of his neck. Cas' hands roved over the muscles of Dean's back, nails digging in every time Dean thrust inside him.

Dean had never done slow, had never wanted passion or love, but those were the only two things he wanted Castiel to feel at that moment. He wanted to make the pain and fear disappear from Cas' gaze. Every touch was as gentle as he could possibly be, every brush of his lips against the other man's skin a reminder that he was safe, that he was cared for. Dean curled his fingers in Cas' dark hair, not pulling, just trying to hold him closer.

"Dean," Cas sighed softly.

The sound of his name falling from Castiel's lips, uttered so softly and full of passion, sent a thrill through Dean that he had never felt before. He could feel his orgasm building, burning and coiling beneath his skin. Cas' cock was dripping where it was trapped between them, and Dean used one hand to wrap around it and stroke in a matching rhythm. Cas squirmed beneath him, hips writhing at the added sensation. He mewled against Dean's lips as he pulled him in for a long, deep kiss. He fought to keep his pace as the pressure continued to build. The increase in Castiel's moans let him know he was close also, his fingers digging harder into Dean's skin.

"Cas, look at me," Dean murmured, voice raw with need.

He wanted,  _needed_ , to look in those blue eyes as he brought Castiel over the edge. He felt the hot splash between them, spilling over his hand and against his stomach as Castiel fought to keep his eyes focused on Dean. His pupils were blown wide with pleasure, the thinnest ring of the blue Dean was so fascinated with. He groaned low in his throat as he felt his own release, burying his face in the crook of Cas' neck and thrusting as deeply as he could.

Before he knew what he was saying, he heard himself moan, "I love you, Castiel."

The sound that came from Castiel was like a mixture of a sob and a moan, and he held on to Dean like he was drowning and Dean was the life line he needed to save himself, one hand curled in his hair while the other wrapped around Dean's waist. Dean slowed, then stilled completely, spent and gasping against the warm skin of Cas' neck. He couldn't believe he had told him he loved him, though he knew he did. He eased out of Castiel, causing them both the shiver with the sensation, but never broke the embrace. He could feel Castiel's trembling breaths, the pounding of his heart. They lay there in silence for what felt like hours.

"I love you too, Dean," Castiel finally whispered.

~~

Outside of the apartment building, stood a solitary figure, his face mottled with healing bruises and a once straight nose was now slightly crooked and flattened from blows of heavy fists. He glared at the bricks, cigarette burning in his hand. He lit it with every intention of smoking it, but it just dangled between his fingers. The sleek black muscle car parked beside a plain grey sedan made his lip curl. He knew that car, he knew who drove it and he  _hated_ him.

"So, old friend," came a cold voice from behind him, "Are you sure this is the place?"

Another man joined him, blond hair shining in the glow of the street light. The first man turned, dark eyes meeting pale blue, and he nodded.

"Yeah, this is it. I watched them walk in after Castiel's shift ended."

"This  _Dean Winchester_ ," the name falling from his lips in distaste, "must be quite formidable to have done that to your face, Raphael."

Raphael snorted, "His groupies pulled us apart before I could fight back. You know me, Bartholomew, I don't take shit from anyone. I'll settle it, don't you worry."

They stood there in silence for a moment, watching the building. The cigarette had burned out in Raphael's hand, he put it to his lips and lit it again, taking a long slow drag. The faint crackling of the paper broke the silence, though silence had never bothered the two men before.

"That really is a disgusting habit, you know," Bart wrinkled his nose.

Raphael shrugged, exhaling through his nose, "Calms my nerves. You have your vices, I have mine."

A cold smile spread across Bart's face as he placed a hand on his friend's shoulder, "Yes, I do. And I thank you for finding my favorite 'vice' as you call it. I'm amazed he was able to hide from me for this long. Gabriel is smarter than we give him credit for. Lucky you were here. Right place, right time, it seems."

Though his words were friendly, if it could be described as such, Raphael was rehearsed enough to hear the underlying tone in his friend's voice. He was unhappy, and it was because of Raphael. He analyzed his face in the dim light, narrowing his eyes.

"I didn't have to call you, you know. I could have kept the information to myself. He was good for business. I won't lie, I thought about keeping it a secret, at least a little while longer. Thought maybe I could get a little more out of him before turning him back over to you. But, I don't make empty threats. I had to follow through. I'm hoping we can work out some sort of arrangement, once he's back to his usual self."

Bart hummed in agreement, "Places like this aren't meant for people like Castiel. His mind ins't strong enough for all of this 'freedom' he thinks is out here. He's too easily convinced of things, too soft-hearted. It won't take long to get him back home, where he belongs. Then, maybe, we can work something out. We seemed to well keeping him in line together before."

Raphael nodded, his face neutral. The two men turned away finally, walking towards the edge of the parking lot to their cars. Raphael couldn't help but feel a little triumphant. Not only would he get his revenge on Dean for ruining his face and impacting his business, he may even get a client favorite back. He had to admit, Castiel had drawn a lot of interested clients in the escorting department. He was attractive, those large blue eyes screamed 'innocence' and it drew in a certain crowd, and like Bart had mentioned he was easily compelled. Fear of the wrath of Bartholomew had made him virtually putty in Raphael's hands. Hell, he'd even gotten some pretty decent blow jobs some nights with the right convincing. Castiel had always had such a nice, inviting mouth...

He was so lost in his own thoughts of money and business and partaking in some of Bart's 'punishments' of Castiel, that he didn't notice the other man falling slightly behind him. He reached his car, turning to wish his friend a good night, and was frozen by the sight of the barrel of a gun level with his face.

"What the-"

"I don't appreciate being betrayed, Raphael. What was mine, will always  _be_ mine."

He didn't even have time to shout. The shot rang out, echoing between the buildings and breaking the peaceful silence of the autumn night. Raphael's body crumpled to the ground, blood and brain matter sprayed over the windows of the now owner-less car, spreading in a dark pool when the body reached the pavement. Bart stood for a second, taking in the sight of his old friend lying dead of the ground before climbing in to his own car. He could see lights turning on in windows of the apartment building and knew it wouldn't be long before the body was discovered. He pulled away without a backward glance.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean was right on the brink of sleep, Castiel's head on his chest, hair still damp from their shower, when a loud  _POP_ sounded outside. He was instantly awake and on his feet in a matter of seconds, crossing to the window to look into the parking lot.

"Dean," Castiel sat up, alert as well, "Was that-"

"Gun shot." Dean said grimly.

He scanned the lot, eyes locking on an SUV parked right on the edge, a dark shape lying next to it. That car didn't belong here, he knew every vehicle of every tenant because he was often asked to check them out. He had never seen this one before. He thought he saw the movement behind the car, like someone slipping out of sight. He felt his blood run cold, and he turned towards the door. He pulled on the first pair of jeans he touched, not bothering with shoes.

"Call 911," he ordered, running out of the room and grabbing his baseball bat as he headed towards the apartment door.

Charlie emerged from her room, rubbing her eyes.

"Who the hell is letting off firecrackers at 3 am?" She yawned.

"Not firecrackers. Go to my room, stay there."

Dean didn't wait to see if she listened to him. He was down the hall and out the door in a flash. He could hear muffled sounds as other tenants realized what had happened, but he didn't stop. He slipped out into the parking lot, keeping his back against the wall and scanning the deserted lot. It was eerily silent, like the world was holding its breath in the aftermath of the gunshot. He gripped the bat tighter in his hands, finding comfort in the cold solid metal. He made his way slowly over to the car, continuously scanning for anything that was amiss, anything that wasn't supposed to be there. As he got closer, he could see more detail, and it made his stomach twist into a knot.

The driver's side window of the SUV was painted in blood and larger chunks of something Dean didn't want to think about. There was a large, dark pool of blood surrounding the body, spreading from the head like a thick, black halo. It was a black male, and something about his build seemed familiar to Dean. He inched closer, the whites of the victim's eyes shining in the faraway glow of the street light. The face was odd, discolored and sort of swollen in places, and obviously the top of his head was blown apart and splattered over the side of his SUV

"Holy fuck," came a voice, too close for Dean's comfort.

He spun around, face to face with Gabe, whose mouth was hanging open in shock. He dragged his eyes from the body to Dean's face. He grabbed Dean by the elbow and dragged him back towards the apartment. Dean could sirens approaching quickly, but he didn't fully understand Gabe's panicked expression.

"What-"

"Raphael." Gabe breathed, still dragging Dean.

It clicked then, the terror that was so evident on Gabe's face. Raphael knew where they lived. He knew where  _Cas_ lived, and since Cas had been with Dean all night, that really only left one person who would do this. The police would identify Raphael, and would of course question the occupants of the building. They would make the connection that Raphael and the Novak brothers were from the same town.

He pulled free of Gabe's grip and ran across the lot towards the door, Gabe right on his heels. They made it into the hall as the police cars screeched into the parking lot, and Dean flung his apartment door open. They fell in to the kitchen, and Dean started towards his room. He felt Gabe catch his arm again.

"Dean, wait," Gabe hissed.

"Cas has to know-"

"I know that. But, we need to talk first. He's going to know who did this, just like you and I know. We need to figure out how we are going to protect him. The cops are going to ask questions," Gabe raked a hand through his hair, "Raphael was never known for being smart."

"Fighting isn't traceable, so with him dead there's nothing to connect him to Cas except that you guys were from the same area. Cas has been with me all night. The only thing we have to worry about is-"

"Bartholomew," Castiel said from the doorway.

Dean and Gabe looked up. Neither of them had heard him come up the hall. His eyes were too large in his pale face. Charlie was beside him, slipping a small arm around his waist. In the week that had passed, Castiel had confessed to both Charlie and Gabe that he had been working for Raphael. Charlie had cried when Cas explained his past to her, and Gabe had been furious that Castiel didn't tell him everything sooner. It had been a tense week for everyone, and it was only going to get worse.

"He killed Raphael," Cas said, voice flat. "He's going to come after me next. He knows where I live."

"It doesn't matter, Cassie," Gabe said quickly, "He's not going to do anything to you. Not this time. He's no one here, and none of us are going to let him get to you. He has no hold over the police here, no strings to pull."

"Uncle Bobby is retired FBI, it won't be hard to get some serious heat down here," Dean crossed the room, taking Cas' hand in his own.

Cas didn't move, didn't react. His eyes were cast down to the floor, but his mind was nowhere near the small, warm kitchen. Dean didn't want to think about where those thoughts were taking the man he loved. He used his free hand to tilt Cas' head up, and slowly those deep blue eyes, now filled with haunted shadows of demons Dean couldn't possibly fight off. The pain and fear Dean saw there twisted his heart, and ignited a dark fury at the same time.

"Castiel," Dean murmured softly, "Trust me when I tell you,  _no one_ is going to hurt you, ever again. I don't care who it is, Bartholomew, your family, or the damn heavenly host, no one is going to get to you."

Cas didn't reply. He held Dean's gaze for a few moments before leaning forward to hide his face against Dean's neck. Dean wrapped his arms around him, meeting Gabe's troubled gaze. A silent communication passed between the two, and Dean could see that Gabe understood: if push came to shove, Gabe and Cas would run, and Dean would take care of everything else.

~~

Castiel shifted nervously outside of the police station. He knew he shouldn't be here. Three days had passed since they found Raphael's body, and the police hadn't been back. Obviously, they were satisfied with the somewhat false information that Gabe and Dean had convinced him to provide, but he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he should have told the truth. Consequences be damned. They would furious, of course, especially Dean because he thought Cas was still at work. He should be at work. He took a deep breath, possibly his last as a free man, and headed up the stone steps.

~~

Dean scanned the dark room, heart pounding in his chest. He made his way over to the bar, ignoring the protests of people that didn't get out of his path. The man behind the bar looked confused when he saw Dean.

"Did Castiel forget something?" Balthazar asked.

"He's not here?" Dean demanded. "I dropped him off myself! I was only gone an hour!"

"He said he felt ill. He left about 20 minutes ago, said you were here to pick him up." Balthazar's brow furrowed, "You didn't pick him up?"

"Obviously, since I'm here talking to you!" Dean shouted.

Normally, he liked Balthazar. Though a little rude, the Brit had a very sharp sense of humor and was a good friend to Cas. Dean trusted him to take care of Cas when he wasn't around, which wasn't often. He had only left long enough to run to Bobby's and ask him if he had heard anything about Raphael's murder, since he had lots of friends in the local police department, but then came right back to the club. Balthazar didn't flinch in the face of Dean's anger, another quality Dean liked about him: he wasn't easily intimidated.

"I don't know where he could have gone then, Dean," Balthazar said, "I wish I could be of more help. When you find him, smack him for me."

Dean turned away without another word, whipping out his phone and calling Cas as soon as the club doors closed behind him. It rang, but no answer. Dean felt panic rising in him as he tried again, then a third time. No answer. He called Gabe, who answered on the second ring.

_"_ What's wrong?" Gabe demanded.

"Is Cas with you?"

"I thought you took him to work?"

"I did. Apparently, he left 20 minutes ago, saying I was here to pick him up. I went to Bobby's to check on the case."

_"Fuck,"_   Gabe yelled,  _"_ I don't even know where to begin to look. Shit!"

Dean was already climbing back in to the Impala, engine roaring to life. He sat there, unsure of where to start. Gabe was equally silent on the other end of the phone.

"I'm gonna keep trying to call him," Dean sighed. "That's all I really can do."

_"_ Can Bobby trace his phone?"

Dean hadn't thought of that. "Yeah, I'll go back over there. Good idea."

Dean hung up, tires squealing as he pulled away from the club. He fought to control his breathing as his mind raced. Flashes of Cas laying in a pool of blood, hole in his forehead, tore through Dean's brain. He tried his best to push those thoughts away. Fear was not something Dean often felt. He didn't know how to react to his racing heart. He had to stay calm, he was no good to Cas in a panic. Just as he pulled in to Bobby's driveway, his phone rang and Cas' name flashed across the screen.

"Where the fuck are you?" Dean answered.

"I'm at the police station," came the flat reply.

"Why? Are you ok? I'm on my way, do not move or I swear to God-"

"Dean," he sighed, "I'm fine. I had to tell the truth. I had to make sure they knew everything. They can't catch him on false information. Just come pick me up."

Dean broke every speed law on his way to the station, he was amazed he didn't get pulled. He went inside, wrenching the door open with a little more force than necessary, to find Cas seated by a pretty brunette dispatcher, styrofoam cup of coffee in his hands. He murmured a quick farewell before crossing over to Dean. Dean felt relief wash over him, though his hands still shook from both fear and anger. He grabbed Cas and pulled him against his chest in a tight hug.

"Don't scare me like that, Cas," he growled.

"I'm sorry," came the muffled reply.

Dean snorted, "You're gonna be. Gabe's not happy with you disappearing either."

Castiel stiffened slightly, but relaxed against Dean so quickly he was sure he had imagined it. He released his tight grip on Cas, heading towards the door.

"Let's go home."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, sorry to anyone who is following this story for the delay! I am going to try my best to update twice a week. This chapter gets a little dark, and a little twisted as we see things from Bartholomew's POV a little. I'll explain more after the chapter.

_"I'm sorry, Bartholomew," Castiel fought to keep his voice steady._

_He could feel the panic rising in him as Bart crossed the room, slow and deliberate, like a shark circling wounded prey. When he got close enough, he reached out to stroke his thumb across Castiel's cheek, and Cas was proud he didn't flinch away from his touch. That would only make things worse. The spicy smell of Bart's cologne filled his nose as he leaned in closer. Cas' heart pounded in his chest, his palms slick with sweat. Bart didn't_ look _angry, maybe this wasn't so bad. Surely, he would understand that Cas hadn't meant to be disrespectful in front of his father._

_Any comforting thoughts were ripped away when the soft touch on his cheek turned in to a fierce grip, Bart's fingers digging in to his jaw bone._

_"You will be, Castiel." Bartholomew whispered._

~~

Cas' eyes snapped open, gasping for air. He felt as though the darkness of the room was closing in on him, crushing him. He could feel his heart racing as he tried to slow his breathing. Dean was still asleep beside him, and Cas tried to listen to his deep, steady breathing. Normally, Dean would wake him from the nightmares, but he was deeply asleep tonight. He felt a pang as he rolled over to face the man next to him. Even asleep, Dean's face was etched with lines. He tried to hide it, but Cas could tell the effect the stress was having on Dean. He remembered how terrified Dean had looked when he entered the police station, and how tightly Dean had held his hand on the drive back to the apartment. He had felt so guilty, yet so relieved at the same time. The cops knew everything, and while they weren't happy that Cas had lied initially, the somewhat rude old Captain had stood up for him.

Dean shifted in his sleep, his forehead creasing and his hand twitching on the pillow next to his face. Castiel slid his own hand under Dean's and smiled as he felt it tighten, his forehead smoothing slightly. 

"Cas," Dean murmured.

Cas had heard Dean say a few names in his sleep, usually 'Sammy" or 'Charlie' but he had never heard his own name. It gave him a little thrill, hearing the rough, sleepy voice of the man he loved saying his name in the darkness, unaware he was even doing so. Yet, at the same time, it twisted like a knife in his heart. He knew that when Dean was talking in his sleep, it was usually due to a troubled dream. He worried about Castiel enough while he was awake, he shouldn't have to worry while he was asleep also. Cas' hand itched to trace along Dean's jaw line, but feared the touch would wake him. He laid there in the darkness for some time, just watching the face of the other man, watching his eyelids tremble as he dreamed. 

He hated that he had brought this with him. He hated himself for being so stupid as to think that he could ever fully escape Bartholomew. He should have known it would only be a matter of time before he found him again. He was relentless, and his family had enough money to indulge their sadistic son's twisted obsessions just to keep him quiet and occupied. He shivered as he thought of Bart's cold eyes, and felt the ghosts of caresses against his skin.

Being with Dean was so opposite of being with Bartholomew that Castiel had a hard time believing Dean was even real sometimes. Dean was more powerful than Bart in a physical sense, and most likely in sheer stubbornness as well. His hands, wider and calloused from hard work that Bart would never have to experience, had never been anything but gentle against Cas' skin, though he knew from watching him fight they could be as heavy and solid as a load of bricks. Sure, he had left some bruises during their first, rough, sexual encounter, but Cas had thoroughly enjoyed those kinds of marks and wished Dean would relax enough that he could experience that feeling again. The past few days had been so stressful that neither of them had tried to initiate, though Cas had wanted to on numerous occasions. Maybe it was a twisted by-product of his relationship with Bart, but sex was the only way Castiel knew to show how he felt, to make up for whatever was wrong. He was out of his element, being with someone who genuinely cared about him and his well-being. Bart had made him believe he cared, just enough that he could manipulate Castiel into being what he wanted. It had taken a while, and a lot of tear-filled drunken nights with Gabriel on the road for Castiel to realize that he could never have been what Bart wanted, no matter how hard he tried.

He felt hot, though his hands and feet were like blocks of ice. He eased his hand out from under Dean's, and made his way quietly down the hall to the bathroom. He stared in the mirror, taking in the bedraggled sight before him. His eyes were sunken, glaringly bright against his pale skin. His jaw was shadowed with stubble, which he ran a hand over absently. The scars on his chest stared back at him, mocking him in the mirror. He ran a finger over one in particular, right over his heart, remembering the weight of the knife in his own hand as he drew across his flesh, just wanting to feel in control of something. He remembered how helpless he had felt, and how watching his skin open up due to his own actions, not Bart's, had made him feel just a tiny bit better. After that, it became a regular thing. After Bart would delve out his 'punishments' Castiel would add his own marks to himself, trying to regain some sort of composure. Bart never noticed the new marks, or if he did he didn't show it.

Knowing that Bart was so close, that he was willing to kill the closest thing he'd had to friend just for hiding Castiel's location, made his hands and mind itch for that familiar sense of control. He hadn't wanted to hurt himself in so long, not since he and Gabriel ran from the only life they had ever known. His hands shook, and he gripped the edge of the sink to steady them. The walls of the small bathroom felt like they were closing in on him. Air, he needed air. He slipped silently back to Dean's room, sliding on a pair of basketball shorts and his shoes. He cast a glance towards Dean, still asleep on the bed, though his brow was more furrowed than before, like he could sense Castiel's absence.

"I'll be right back," he whispered, knowing full well Dean wouldn't hear him.

He just needed to breathe. He needed fresh, cold air. Almost as an afterthought, he grabbed Charlie's tiny can of pepper spray from her key chain on his way out the door.

The parking lot was still, the streetlamp casting a strange orange glow on the cars. His breath was just barely visible, and it was much colder out than he thought it would be. It was like Bart's cold personality had leaked in to the surrounding area, poisoning the atmosphere and leeching all of the remaining warmth. He settled down on the trunk of Dean's beloved Impala, taking deep breaths and relishing how the cold air numbed his throat. The frigid metal stung the back of his legs slightly, but that was okay. It was just enough to keep him grounded, and chase away the last of the panic attack he had felt creeping up on him in the bathroom. His fingers fiddled absently with the small chain on the pepper spray as he scanned the parking lot, watching for any signs of movement. He saw nothing out of place, though he couldn't shake the distinct feeling that someone's eyes were on him.

~~

It was almost too good to be true. Here he was, standing in the shadows across from the building that had become his obsession over the past few days, and who else but Castiel himself would walk out into the dim, deserted parking lot. Bart smiled to himself as he watched Castiel hop onto some old muscle car, his feet swaying slightly. He had made a habit of stopping to watch the building, in those hours that sleep eluded him, just watching and analyzing and waiting for the right moment. He had yet to see Castiel, which had bothered him. He'd seen plenty of other people going in and out of the building, even spotting Gabriel the night before, leading some dark-haired girl out to her car and watching her drive off, that familiar smug expression on the older Novak's face. It had taken most of his self-control to not confront him. How dare he get to look so content after stealing Castiel away.

Bart knew he wasn't capable of real love, something his expensive therapist had told his father all those years ago. He wasn't capable of many emotions, but he felt  _something_ in the case of Castiel. He wanted him back. Having Castiel around had made things better for him, had given him an outlet and improved his focus. Castiel was  _his_ , he  _belonged_ to Bartholomew. His parents had consented, had all but given him over the Bart's father in hopes of curing him, and Bart had done that. He had taken care of Castiel, provided him a home, and companionship. Wasn't that what everyone wanted? That's what he had always been told he needed to provide for whoever he ended up with. Granted, originally Castiel had been intended for his younger sister, but his father told Bart they could work something out when he had voiced how he wanted the blue-eyed man for himself. After all, Hester wasn't very bright to begin with, she wouldn't notice. His doe-eyed sister could play house with Castiel, though Bart would be the real head of the house. Maybe have his own wife, who knows. It wasn't odd really, not in his part of the world. He missed home, missed the familiarity of it all. He missed being respected by the community, he missed the position of power he held as the city's therapist, though he really worked for the church. He saw mostly the housewives who married in to the community and struggled to adapt to the lifestyle that was so different from what they were used to. He was good at getting people, especially the weak-minded women that were brought before him, to see things how he wanted, how it should be. If only the rest of the world were like his city, everything would run much smoother.

He watched Castiel for some time, drinking in the sight of the other man's pale flesh, appreciating the lean muscle tone he had acquired in his travels. Maybe, once he got Castiel home where he belonged, he would allow him to continue whatever work-out routine he had taken up. Though it would have to be after he retrained Castiel to the ways they were familiar with. He wasn't about to let someone over-power him, no matter how attractive the muscles were. He had a feeling that this new Castiel was rebellious, and Bart felt a small glimmer of excitement at the thought of breaking that rebellion. If Castiel wanted to play the role he had chosen for himself, of the lesser in a relationship by being the way he was, then he would behave like the rest of the wives in the community. Even if he married Hester, whenever Bart was around, whenever the  _real_ man of the house was around, he would play his part accordingly.

Just as Bart started to step towards Castiel, a small red haired woman came vaulting out of the apartment building towards Castiel. He cursed silently as the shrill female voice cut through the quiet night.

"What the hell, Cas?"

She wasn't yelling, but the night was so still her voice carried over to where he stood. The nickname struck him as odd, causing him to tilt his head slightly. Bart was a nickname, Bartholomew being a bit of a mouthful, but Castiel was already such a short name, and it seemed degrading to shorten the name of an angel.

"I needed some air," came the low reply.

"You can't just leave without telling anyone, not while there's a psycho after you! Dean would lose his shit if something happened to you while he was asleep. You're lucky it was me who noticed you were gone and not Dean! Not to mention you're sitting on his baby, which he may not approve of." Her voice had taken on a slightly teasing tone, easing out of the strained, scared tone from earlier.

There was that name again, Dean. He had heard it from Raphael, saying that this  _Dean Winchester_ had taken in Castiel, and that there was some sort of relationship there. He had mentioned using Castiel in his escort service, but that he had demanded that stop when he got involved with someone. Then there was a fight that Castiel refused to go through with because it was against Dean and Raphael had put two and two together, after Dean gave the other man the beating of his life.

"Is he still asleep?" Castiel asked, sliding off the trunk.

She nodded, holding her small hand out to him. He saw Castiel's shoulders drop in what looked like relief and take the outstretched hand before the pair turned back towards the door. As they disappeared inside, he saw Castiel cast one last glance around the parking lot, scanning over where Bart stood in the darkness, oblivious to the fact he was being watched.

Triumph filled Bart's chest. Not only had he seen Castiel, but now he knew one other person in the building that meant something to the other man. He had leverage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I mentioned, Bart's a twisted little effer. I tried to explain his mindset just a little, but I'll clear it up here.  
> The community they come from is very very old-fashioned and border-line cult-y. Men as the head of the house, women being the lesser and only being responsible for tending the home/children and meeting the needs of their husbands. More than one wife, or two couples living in one household is not uncommon. Basically, its a very male-run society, and the church is the head of it all. The 'city' is isolated, and the city government have more or less bought their 'independence' from the surrounding areas. They turn a blind eye and let the city's inhabitants rule themselves. It's very loosely inspired by the movie 'The Village' which if you have not seen, I highly recommend, though it is a little brash for some people's tastes.
> 
> Thank you to anyone who reads this, and feed back is always welcome!


	11. Chapter 11

Dean had fought, but eventually conceded in letting Castiel go back to work. It had been over a week since the murder of Raphael, and according to Bobby there weren't any new leads. Even with Castiel's confession, which had earned him the honorary term of 'idgit' from the grizzled old man, there was no actual evidence for the police to arrest Bartholomew. They were at a painfully frustrating stalemate, and Cas had pleaded with everyone that they just go back to their lives.

"By hiding me here, we are letting him win," Castiel had almost shouted, "He wants us afraid, he wants me to feel trapped and wants to drive us apart. I  _know_ him. I know what he's trying to do, and it's fucking working, Dean! We are fighting, its what he  _wants._ "

Dean had scrubbed his hands over his face, sighing angrily. He knew Cas was right, but the fear of losing Castiel was still at the forefront of his mind. His eyes were still squeezed shut when he felt the cool hands run over his waist as Castiel slid closer.

"You can stay the whole time, if that's what it takes. I'm done being afraid of him, letting him rule my life. I like my job, I like working. Please, Dean, don't let him take this from us." Castiel had murmured, pressing his lips against Dean's neck.

"Fine," Dean snapped, though he sounded more tired than angry, "But go ahead and tell your boss my ass has a permanent seat at your bar."

He had felt Castiel smile against his skin, and Dean couldn't help the slight twitch of his own lips.

Dean was true to his word, staying firmly planted in the bar stool next to the wall, watching as his boyfriend laughed and interacted with the guests. He took a small sip of his whiskey, letting the familiar burn of alcohol soothe his nerves. He watched as Castiel poured shots for a group of giggling girls, one of them sporting a 'Bride to be' sash and crown. He smiled as one of the girls flipped her hair, eyeing Cas seductively as she downed her shot. Cas met his gaze, rolling his eyes and smirking. The girl leaned over the bar, running small fingers over Cas' arm. He watched as his boyfriend eased away from her touch, leaning close to her and gesturing towards Dean. He couldn't hear what was said over the noise and music, but by the look on the girl's face and the exaggerated 'Sorry' mouthed in his direction, he can only assume that Castiel told her he was gay. Dean raised his glass slightly in acknowledgement, winking at Cas in a way that caused the group of girls to dissolve in another round of drunken laughter.

Once the waiting patrons were satisfied, and orders from the wait staff were filled, Castiel made his way down the bar to stand in front of Dean. He looked up at him, taking in the sight of how his cheeks were flushed with excitement, how thrilled he looked to be out of the house. Dean felt a pang of guilt. He had tried to keep Cas home, and if he had succeeded, then he wouldn't be in this mood. Cas must have sensed where his mind was headed, because he placed a hand on Dean's arm.

"Stop," he said softly, "You were just trying to protect me."

He glanced around quickly, before leaning in to place a quick chaste kiss to Dean's lips. It was over before Dean could fully respond, but the patrons that were watching at the bar let out an assortment of whistles and shouts.

The night passed pretty uneventfully, though Dean felt like a wrung out towel by the time Castiel's shift was over. He had been watching the door, making a note of everyone who walked in to the bar. He had a general idea of what Bart looked like, though he almost wished Cas had at least one picture just so Dean knew exactly who he was looking for.

As they reached the Impala, Dean felt Cas grab his waist and spin him around, pressing him against the car and sealing his mouth over Dean's. Dean responded, angling his head into the kiss as he pulled the other man close against him. He groaned as he felt Cas' cool hands slide under his shirt, tracing his nails along the waistline of his jeans. It seemed like it had been forever since they kissed like this. The stress from everything that had happened recently had driven most thoughts other than keeping Cas safe out of Dean's mind. He didn't tell him about the longing, erotic dreams he'd been having that reminded him of his early teenage years, only instead of his flirty, sexy History teacher Ms. Barnes, it was Cas that starred in them. More than once Dean had woken up on the verge of release, so achingly hard that it took all of his will power not to wake Castiel and pick up where the dreams left off. He let his own hands drift around Cas' hips, sliding into the back pockets of his jeans and pressing him forward. He felt Cas smile, and just as he pulled away to say something that was no doubt snarky yet sexy, as he had a habit of being, someone interrupted them.

" _Dean?_ " came a shrill voice.

Both of the men looked up, and Dean groaned inwardly. Lisa stood on the sidewalk, watching him and Cas with a hurt look on her face. Her eyes glittered with tears as she took in the sight of him, and Dean felt a knot form in his stomach.

"Hey, Lis," he began, his voice sounding weak.

" _This_ is why you've been avoiding me? What the hell, Dean? I've heard rumors, yeah, but I didn't actually believe it," she glared at him.

He eased out from under Cas, holding his hands out toward Lisa in a surrendering gesture, though he knew how confused he must have looked.

"Rumors?" He asked.

"Yeah," she tossed her head, flipping her long hair angrily over her shoulder, "Rumors that you had some guy shacked up with you. So, what, I'm good enough to fuck whenever but not good enough to date because I don't have a dick? I never took you for a fag, Dean, though it does kind of explain why you never wanted to settle down."

Any sympathy he had felt for the girl instantly disappeared.

"Wow, Lis, I didn't have you pegged as a bigot. Or so petty," Dean felt the anger rising in his chest, "I didn't want to settle down with  _you,_ because I've never felt that sort of connection. You're an adult, you could have said no at any time. Don't blame  _me_ for  _you_ being an easy lay."

"Oh,  _fuck you,_ Winchester!" She shouted, causing a couple passing by to stop and stare.

Dean just turned his back on her. Cas met his gaze, eyes blazing in a way that Dean found incredibly attractive even though he knew it was from anger. He closed the small distance between them in two strides, taking the other mans face in his hands and kissing him deeply. He knew it was petty, but he didn't care. Castiel balled his fists in Dean's shirt, pulling himself tight against his chest. Dean heard Lisa scoff behind them and could picture her storming off in a huff. Castiel backed Dean against the Impala again, more aggressively this time. Dean groaned, and couldn't help the smile small that spread across his face.

"You should get pissed off more often," he murmured.

Castiel let out a short huff of laughter, "Just take me home, Dean."

~~

They barely made it through the door before Castiel was glued to Dean's lips again. Hands tore at articles of clothing, not caring where the discarded garments went. Dean hadn't realized just how much he had missed the physical connection he and Cas had until that moment. Even though they were pressed as close together as they could be, Dean still felt like there was too much space between them. Castiel moved from Dean's lips, kissing his way down his chest as he palmed Dean's erection through is boxers. Dean groaned and flexed his hips as Castiel kissed and nibbled his way down Dean's abs. He felt Cas' nails dig in to his hips slightly as he pulled Dean's boxers down, running his hand along the length. Dean sighed, his eyes closing, only to snap them open again as he felt Castiel take him into his mouth. He looked down, just as Castiel raised his eyes to meet Dean's gaze. The thrill that went through him at the sight almost caused his knees to give out. 

He'd never seen a sexier look in those blue eyes, glittering brightly as they looked up at him. He watched as Cas slowly slid down the length of Dean's cock, felt the muscles of the other mans throat as it accommodated him.

"F-fuck Cas," Dean gasped, one hand reaching out to grip the counter in case his knees actually  _did_ give out.

Cas started to move then, working up and down Dean's shaft but never breaking eye contact. Dean curled his free hand in Cas' hair and fought the urge to thrust forward into the wet heat. Cas was moving agonizingly slow, and it was driving Dean insane. He could see the spark of triumph in Cas' eyes as he watched Dean flush and gasp and stutter, a glimmer of a challenge like he was waiting for the other man to seize control of the situation. So, Dean did just that.

He used the hand that was in Cas' hair to pull his mouth away, his dick twitching at the sudden cold. Cas smirked up at him, biting his lower lip. He pulled him to his feet and pressed his back against the counter, sealing his mouth in a kiss. His mind raced with images of him taking Cas on every flat surface in the apartment, though he wasn't sure where to start. The lubricant was in his room, and that was so very far...

Cas nicked his bottom lip sharply with his teeth, causing Dean to gasp slightly at the sudden sting.

"You're thinking too much again," Cas' voice was rough with desire.

Dean gripped Castiel's hips tight, pulling him away from the counter and pushing him towards the bedroom, "Go get what we need, and hurry up."

To his surprise, Cas pushed back, eyes still sparking with the hint of a challenge, "Make me."

He'd never been with someone who challenged the low, authoritative growl or his dominant personality, and  _holy fuck_ it was hot. Dean and Cas made their way down the hall together, though it seemed they knocked every framed picture off the walls and at one point they knocked into Charlie's bookshelf, causing all sorts of books and knick-knacks to clatter to the floor. Dean thought they'd broken his door as he heard it crack against the wall, but he was beyond caring. Finally, after what seemed like hours from them first entering the apartment, Dean had Castiel bent over his dresser once more, listening to the other man moan as he buried himself inside him.

~~

Charlie hesitated outside the door to her apartment. She heard crashes from inside, and just as she reached for the knob, she heard a very distinct, very masculine moan. She wanted to smile, but at the same time she wanted to find a way to bleach her ears. She'd been around when Dean brought home random girls before, and because Dean refused to use his bedroom for some odd reason she never understood, she'd heard her fair share of Dean's conquests moaning like porn stars from the safety of her closed bedroom door. That hadn't bothered her because she could relate, in a way. Hearing Castiel. or what she assumed was Cas because she was pretty sure it wasn't Dean, just made her feel like she was intruding. She shook her head and backed away from the door, reaching into her back pocket for her phone.

"Well, shit," she cursed as she realized she had left her phone down at The Sanctuary.

She headed back out to the parking lot and climbed into her beat up yellow 'Bug. She would have walked, but the rest of the group had stayed at the bar and she didn't like walking alone. With any luck, Gabe wouldn't mind if she crashed at his place for the night. She had noticed the tension between the two men growing and if she knew her cousin, which she did, the couple was going to be making up for a lot of lost time and taking out frustrations in a way that she wouldn't be able to ignore with music. She was so wrapped up in her thoughts of anything  _but_ what was happening at her apartment, she didn't notice the sleek black car following just behind her.

She had just put her hand on the door of The Sanctuary, looking through the tiny window to where her friends sat around the bar while Jo cleaned up, when she felt a hand grab her wrist.

"Excuse me," came a soft voice.

She regarded the man in front of her with a calm curiosity. He was around Dean's height, she figured, with light blond hair and pale blue eyes. His face was handsome in a way, straight white teeth showing in a perfectly practiced smile. He reminded her of a realtor, or a politician, the kind of people who only smiled because they figured it would help them get what they wanted. She glanced back through the window nervously, willing one of her friends to turn and notice her.

"Um, yeah?" She forced a smile. "Can I help you?"

He chuckled softly, the sound of it making Charlie's stomach churn. This was wrong.  _He_ was wrong, like a predatory animal locked inside a human body.

"Maybe you can. You see, I'm new to the area, and I've gotten a little turned around. Could I maybe use your phone? Mine's dead."

He held up a very expensive looking phone, screen black, and shrugged, trying to look apologetic.

Had Bobby Singer not been her uncle and raised her after her parents died, she might have fallen for the whole 'helpless stranger' act, but she knew differently. However, she was outmatched in height and weight and strength. He was no Dean or Benny, but Charlie could feel the strength in his hand, still wrapped firmly around her wrist. She knew how to fight, Dean and Bobby both had made sure of that, but something about this guy made her very uneasy. She didn't think she would be able to make a sound loud enough for her friends to hear before he made a move to silence her.

So, instead of acting on her impulse to throw a clumsy left-handed punch to this guy's throat, because he insisted on grabbing her right wrist, of course, she held her smile and dropped her shoulders slightly in an almost exaggerated show of relaxation.

"Yeah, no problem. I remember getting lost when I first moved here too. My phone is just inside, let me run in and grab it. I forgot it here earlier, like a dumb ass," she rolled her eyes and laughed.

Her skin prickled where he touched her wrist, and she felt the desire to scrub her skin until it burned just to make the feeling go away. The stranger's smile never wavered, though she saw a shadow pass over his cold, blue eyes. He looked her up and down, and that prickly feeling spread over her whole body. Her muscles screamed at her to run, fight, fall, do  _something_ to draw attention to herself, but she felt frozen under that unsettling gaze.

"What's your name?" he asked in an almost conversational tone.

"Charlie," she replied, thankful that her voice didn't betray the fear that was rolling in her chest.

"Charlie," he hummed softly, "That's a very nice name. Different for a woman. I like it."

Her skin was absolutely  _crawling_ now. Panic was rising in her throat as he tugged on her wrist firmly, pulling her away from the door and the safety of her group of friends.

"Charlie," he cooed, voice disgustingly sweet, "I know you are friends with Castiel, and I know his brother is in that bar, so for obvious reasons, I can't let you go in."

At the mention of Cas, Charlie felt her blood turn to ice. This guy was no regular Kansas City creep. She curled her fist, planted her feet, and swung as hard as she could towards his throat.

"Help!' She yelled, trying to wrench her wrist free and get back to the door. "Guys, I need-"

Something solid cracked against the back of her head, her vision going black, just as she saw Benny turn towards the window.


	12. Chapter 12

Far away, Charlie could hear honking. Dean never honked the horn on the Impala, unless he was  _really_ frustrated. And since when was the Impala so quiet? She could barely hear the engine. It was like she was underwater, or her ears were full of cotton. Everything sounded so distorted and muffled. Her head throbbed, and she struggled to open her eyes.

The world jerked to the left suddenly, causing her to roll with the motion and her head to hit something hard and cold. It made her teeth click together uncomfortably, but she was already in so much pain she didn't notice any new. She heard herself groan thickly, fighting her way out of the fog that clouded everything. Vaguely, she heard a man talking, though she couldn't make out the words over the roaring in her ears. She reached out for something,  _anything_ to make her feel more grounded, to pull her way out of the darkness. Her hand brushed against fabric, and beneath the fabric she could feel the unmistakable form of a person. Shoulder, maybe? God, she hoped it was a shoulder. Dean would never let her live it down if she groped his chest while she was passed out drunk...

An unfamiliar hand gripped hers softly, bringing her a little further out of the muddled mess that was her consciousness. Dean's hands weren't that smooth, or that thin. She tried to open her eyes again, vision blurring horribly. EVerything was too dark, yet the green lights on the dash were too bright. The Impala didn't have green lights...

"Dean?' She heard herself mumble.

More honking. Outside of the car. He had to be driving like a lunatic to have someone that pissed off. Hopefully, he wouldn't pull over and cause a scene like the weekend of her 21st birthday...

The voice came again, and again the words made no sense to her. Something tickled at the back of her mind, some feeling that she knew she should pay attention to, but she couldn't focus on it. The world jerked again, and again her head hit the cold, hard surface. She couldn't fight anymore as the fog pulled her back under.

~~

Dean had Cas pressed against the wall in the shower, kissing lazily down his throat as the other man hummed beneath him and the hot water flowed over the pair. One of Cas' hands trailed circles along the base of Dean's spine, and the other carded softly through his hair. Dean found he had missed these moments as well as the actual sex, just exploring and appreciating each other.

"I love you," Dean murmured into the curve or Castiel's neck, placing another soft kiss there.

He heard Castiel's breath hitch, but it was such a soft quick sound Dean thought he had imagined it.  He pulled away, meeting Castiel's gaze.

"What is it?"He asked as he moved to cup one side of Castiel's face.

His eyes clouded for a moment, something Dean had noticed before when Cas' mind went back to his troubled past. It tugged at his heart, seeing the pain that lingered there.

"I've never had this, Dean," Cas blinked at him, "I've never had someone who actually cared, who meant it when they told me they loved me. He was my only relationship, and it was exactly the opposite of this. At first, he was sweet and attentive and all that hearts and flowers shit, but I was so desperate for companionship that I overlooked all the red flags. I love you," he said quickly, and Dean wondered what emotion had flitted across the calm mask he had taken to wearing when Cas spoke of his past, "and I love what we have. I trust you, but there's still that terrified part of me that's almost waiting for things to go bad."

Dean pressed his forehead against Cas' and exhaled sharply through his nose, almost like a laugh, "If I screw this up, or if I am ever a dick to you, kick my ass. I've never had a relationship at all, I'm just doing what feels right."

Castiel rolled his eyes, grinning, and opened his mouth to respond, but a loud banging interrupted him. It sounded as though someone was trying to break down the door. Dean was out of the shower in a matter of seconds, towel wrapped firmly around his waist and Castiel on his heels.

"What?!" Dean shouted.

"Dean, man, it's Kevin.  _Fuck_ hurry up and open the door!"

The panic was clear even through the door. Dean wrenched it out open, cold fear settling in his stomach as he took in the sight of Charlie's friend. His eyes were wild, too wide in his small face, and his hair alternated between sticking out in every direction and being plastered to his head from sweat. He could hear Meg down the hall a ways, talking on the phone.

"-black sedan of some kind, couldn't get an exact make. Aren't you listening? The bastard is flying down Bermuda Avenue! Just look for cars driving erratically with a passed out girl in the front seat!"

"What's going on?" Dean demanded, "I thought you guys were out tonight."

"Some guy, he took Charlie. Gabe knew him. He, Benny and Jo took off after him in Benny's car. We thought she came home, but she left her phone and I guess she came back and he was outside, caught her at the door," Kevin dragged his hand through his hair.

Dean turned and grabbed his discarded jeans from the kitchen floor, thankful he and Cas had started there. He didn't bother with shoes or underwear or anything. He fished his phone out of his pocket as he ran towards the Impala. Fear gripped his chest like a vice, but he had to force it aside. Charlie needed him, he couldn't let her down because he was afraid. He was so focused on the ringing on the other end of the phone, he didn't realize Castiel had followed him until he heard the passenger door close.

"What's wrong, son?" came Bobby's gruff voice on the other end of the phone.

"Bobby he's got Charlie. Get everyone you can. Meg said he's in a black sedan and flying down Bermuda Ave."

"Shit," Bobby yelled.

He didn't bother with a goodbye, Bobby had already hung up. Dean tore out of the parking lot, tires squealing, dialing Benny's number. Castiel was silent beside him, looking down at his hands.

"I'm sorry brother," Benny said as soon as he answered, "I saw her through the window and when I got outside he was peeling away from the curb."

"Where are you guys now? Maybe I can cut him off somewhere."

"He turned on to Wilson, I'm trying to get closer. His car maneuvers better than my truck," Benny sounded hopeless.

Dean tried to picture the roads in his mind, trying to figure out the best route. He heard Castiel mumbling quietly, low voice lost in the rumble of Baby's engine.

He turned to glance at him, confused to see he was one the phone. He turned back to the road, weaving in and out of the few cars that were out this time of night. Off in the distance, he heard sirens, but he wasn't sure whether they were coming to his aid or not. He prayed, something he hadn't done in a long time, that he would catch up to his cousin.

~~

Bartholomew was annoyed. Not only had this scrap of a woman managed to land a punch, the strength behind that tiny fist catching him by surprise, but the  _first word_ out of that little pink mouth had been  _Dean._  He had been talking to himself, cursing the truck that was following him, when he heard her stir beside him.She had reached for him, small hand bumping clumsily into his shoulder, and instinctively he grabbed her hand. Her skin was soft, and he imagined how the rest of it would feel under his hands... Then she had spoken, that one name that was poisoned for him forever.

"What is the big fucking deal with this Dean?" He mused, more to himself because she had passed out again. "Is he sleeping with this one too?"

He glanced back in his mirror, a fresh wave of annoyance sweeping through him. That hulking truck was still behind him, honking and flashing and drawing unwanted attention. He had been mentally kicking himself since he saw the burly man burst out of the bar, followed by a petite blonde and Gabriel, catching sight of him and piling into the ancient vehicle to follow him.  He had acted impulsively, knocking the girl out and taking her instead of just leaving her on the sidewalk. He hadn't thought they would have been able to hear her through the doors. Something about her made him want to take her with him. From afar, she had just seemed like another girl, her small stature had made her look younger. When he had been close to her, he had noticed the beauty there. Fair cheekbones, fiery red hair framing an innocent moon shaped face and wide, earnest eyes the color of crushed leaves in the summer. Maybe, if he could get her back to the Community with Castiel, she would stay with him. It would help her integrate, having a friend in the household...

His phone rang, cutting in to his fantasies. An unfamiliar number flashed across the screen, but he had a feeling he knew who it was.

"Yes?" He answered calmly.

"Where are you taking her?" came the flat, low voice.

He felt his lips curl into a smile, "Castiel. I see you remembered my number. That's why I never changed it, you know. In case you decided to reach out to me."

"Just tell me where you're going."

He could almost picture how Castiel would be frowning, that little V that formed between his eyebrows.

"Well, I would, but I have a feeling your new friends would follow me there as well, and five against one isn't really a fair fight, is it? I know Dean's with you, he has to be, I hear that antique car of his. Why do your friends insist on having old cars? They're very impractical."

Castiel sighed impatiently, "Just tell me where. Hell, pull over and drop her off and I'll meet you where ever you want. None of them have anything to do with this."

Bart heard a muffled voice on the other end, but whatever Dean had said, Castiel ignored him.

"It sounds like you were asked a question, Castiel. It really is rude to ignore people. I knew you would be changed from leaving home, but I figured  _some_ of our lessons would have stuck."

"Tell me where you're going, Bart."

He thought he heard a slight tremble in Castiel's voice, though it was the roar of fury that exploded from Dean at the mention of his name that widened his smile.

"If she's hurt motherfucker I'll kill you!" Dean yelled.

"That's not comforting at all," he laughed. "Lose the audience, then call me back."

He hung up, making another turn and looking over at Charlie again. She was still out, slumped against the window. He wondered if he had caused any serious damage, though he shouldn't have. It had been a fairly simple blow, and not even that hard. He hoped it wouldn't affect her too much, though if she was coming home with him, a malleable mind would be far easier to work with..


	13. Chapter 13

"Are you out of your fucking mind, Cas?" Dean shouted.

Castiel didn't answer right away, just stared down at his phone. He took a deep breath, but didn't turn to look at Dean.

"I'm not afraid of him anymore, Dean. He won't hurt me. He can't have Charlie."

"I'm not sure if you noticed, but he killed Raphael. You can't sit here and tell me he won't hurt you, all he did was hurt you, Cas! I'm not gonna let you meet up with this psycho alone."

"Dean, you don't know him like I do. He will hurt Charlie, or take her back with him and we will never see her again. I can't let that happen. It's my fault he's here to begin with. Just let me handle it, please."

They had been driving for what felt like hours. Bart's erratic driving had caused several accidents, and Benny finally got caught on the wrong end of one. No one was hurt, but they had lost sight of the car and even the police had been no help. Bobby had already called Dean, raving and cussing about how the new generation was useless and how Rufus was losing his touch. 

"I don't care how, but you find her, boy, and you bring her home," the old man had growled, "Leave the paperwork to me."

Dean had refused to go home, just driving aimlessly looking for any sort of sign of his cousin. He didn't even know what kind of car he was looking for. Benny said it looked expensive, far nicer than anyone in the college sector could afford.

Dean's mind was a writhing mass of anger and panic, both equally commanding of his attention. He kept getting flashes of Charlie, hurt and bloodied, but then they were replaced with Castiel. Two of the people he cared about most in this world were in danger from the same person, and Dean was powerless. He needed to  _do_ something. It was just welling in his chest, the rage and frustration and overall feeling of helplessness. He was the oldest, it was his  _job_ to protect Charlie. Ever since they were kids, Dean had been there to help her up when she fell and scare off the bigger kids who were dumb enough to pick on her for being different.

He jerked the Impala to the curb, throwing it into park and slamming his hand on the steering wheel repeatedly.

" _Fuck!_ Shit fuck fucking fuck!" he yelled, emphasizing each word with another blow to the steering wheel. 

He felt Castiel slide across the seat, resting his hand on Dean's shoulder. Dean felt the pressure, but continued his abuse of the steering wheel until his arm was shaking and his hand was throbbing. Castiel's fingers closed around his forearm, and Dean drew a shaky breath.

"Dean," Cas' voice was wary, like he was cornering a wild animal, "Please, let me fix this. I know what I'm doing."

"I can't just sit here and do nothing while you go confront someone who has not only hurt you before, but shot his own friend in the head. I can't lose you and Charlie," Dean was surprised how steady his voice was.

Castiel placed a soft kiss to Dean's temple, "I'll be okay, Dean."

~~

Castiel walked down the silent street, shoving his hands in his pockets to keep them from shaking. He knew where he was, he'd been here before when he worked for Raphael. The small house was one of the locations he kept for his escorts to bring their clients back to. It was sort of genius, in a twisted way. Clients could book a warm body and a secure house and avoid witnesses in hotels. Memories drifted through Cas' mind as he walked through the small gate and down the front walk, both good ones with Dean and his new friends and the bad ones from before. He had lied to Dean, when he said he wasn't afraid. Castiel knew he would always be afraid of Bartholomew, it was just a part of him now like the scars. The dark oak door loomed before him, and his hands felt like leads weights in his pockets. He willed them to stop shaking as he touched the cold door knob. He took a deep breath and opened the door.

The front hall was dark, but light flickered from the doorway of the living room. He didn't bother trying to stay quiet, Bart was expecting him. He was seated on the couch, legs stretched in front of him and crossed at the ankles, fingers laced behind his head as he stared forward into the large fire in the white brick fireplace. Cas scanned the room, but saw no sign of Charlie.

"Hello, Castiel," Bartholomew called over his shoulder.

"This seems to be a little dramatic, don't you think?" Castiel said flatly, "You're putting out a very 'evil-villain' vibe."

Bart laughed, the sound triggering an onslaught of memories to flash through Castiel's mind. Bart laughing on their first date at that awful restaurant just outside of town, nights before all of the bad times where Castiel thought he was truly in love with the smart and powerful psychiatrist. He forced them away. They were lies, and Castiel knew it. All of the good times had just been to draw Castiel in.

"Are you just going to stand there, Castiel, or are you going to come in and talk to me?"

He walked slowly in to the room, standing as far from Bart as possible. He looked exactly the same, but Cas felt nothing for the man siting before him, stretched out and smug like a well-fed house cat. 

"Where is Charlie?" He asked.

Bart's eyes traveled slowly over Castiel, not bothering to be discreet. Cas bit the inside of his cheek, fighting the urge to turn and leave. Charlie needed him.

"You look very well, Castiel. Though I don't like being out of the Community personally, I can say it has suited you in the physical sense."

"Where is Charlie?" He repeated.

He wasn't going to acknowledge Bart unless he had to. He knew he was going to try and bring him back, going to try and play on Castiel's feelings he believed were still there. Cas' feelings for Bart had long since faded. Gabriel had helped him see how sick and twisted Bart was, how he had never truly cared about Castiel.

Bart rose slowly, closing the distance between them in slow exaggerated steps. Again, Castiel was reminded of a cat. Bartholomew reached out and Castiel took a step back.

"I'm here for her, Bart, not for you. I don't want you back, I don't want this. I left you. I'm not coming back."

"Do you know how it felt to come home from work, and find you gone? I was terrified. I thought something had happened to you, the way the room looked it was like there was some sort of struggle. Then, I heard that you and Gabriel had left the Community, you left  _me_. Without even the decency of a note."

 "You and I both know that you don't feel, Bart. At least not anything good." Castiel shrugged, "I think I always knew, I just refused to believe it for so long. So don't try to pull that with me. Where is Charlie?"

That cold, blue gaze flashed with anger, "You're being very rude, Castiel. I'm trying to have a conversation and you are completely shutting me down.  _Charlie_ is safe, she's sleeping at the moment. But," Bart held up a hand as Cas started to speak, "I'm not just going to let you or her go. You're both very... Interesting to me. Imagine the family we could be, Castiel."

Cas blinked in confusion, "You're not serious, Bart. That's insane."

"Well, here's the thing, Castiel," Bart turned away, "No one knows where you are. Or Charlie, for that matter. I tried playing nice, but you are being difficult as I knew you would."

He walked over to the fire place, trailing his hand along the mantle slowly, before turning back to face Cas.

"Raphael was my friend. But, he took what was mine. You," he smiled, "are  _mine._ You have been from the start. All Raphael did was use you to make money. Imagine what I'll do to this  _Dean_ for actually having the nerve to touch you."

Castiel felt the blood drain from his face. Images of Dean with a hole in his head flashed through his brain. He fought to control his expression, knowing if he showed any weakness Bart would latch on to it. Luckily, he was still talking, so he wasn't paying very much attention to Cas. He'd turned again, looking back in to the flames. Slowly, ever so slowly, Cas inched his way towards the doorway. Raphael, while he had been for lack of a better word a prick, had insured the relative safety of his assests. In every room, there was a panel, that could send an SOS to Raphael's phone. All Cas had to do was get to it, and type in Dean's number...

"I wasn't surprised, to hear you'd found someone. You might think you are, but you're not an independent type of man. You cling to people, men, who exude power and control because that's what you need. But I never took you as the sharing type. Apparently, Dean has some sort of hold on Charlie as well. She said his name, for the few brief seconds she was awake in the car. You already share Dean with her, why not me?"

Cas couldn't help but snort, "It's not like that at all. She's his cousin."

Bart shrugged, thankfully not looking back as Cas moved closer to the hidden panel, "Even better. I've never met Dean, but I almost want to. I wish I could see his face as I take you and Charlie away from him."

Cas had reached the panel, punching in Dean's number and sliding it shut again before moving back in to the room. He hoped Dean wasn't too far away...

"She won't go for it, Bart. The whole family is more stubborn and strong willed than even you can handle. Plus, she's a lesbian."

Bart turned back just as Cas slid away from the wall. "Like that matters. All she needs is a little coaching, training. Just like any other woman who join from the outside."

Bart crossed the room towards Cas again, stopping just a few inches from him. He felt his skin crawling with revulsion at being so close. As he looked into the pale eyes that had once meant so much to him, that had controlled his life for so long, Castiel questioned why he had ever felt anything for him at all. There was nothing in that gaze, no emotion. He had to have been blind to think they had ever looked at him with anything other than possession. The two men stood there for a moment, neither moving. He felt his breathing speed up, the familiar rumble of the Impala growing slowly in the distance. Bart smiled. leaning in slowly.

"Castiel," he breathed, "We had fun, didn't we?"

Cas was unprepared for the brush of Bart's lips against his own.


	14. Chapter 14

Dean crept towards the small house, taking care to make as little noise as possible. No lights were on, but this was the address that he had received. He'd been pacing up and down the street where Castiel had demanded he let him out and not follow him when his phone had buzzed, an emergency text from an unknown number. 

"Keep your phone handy," he had said, giving Dean's hand a final squeeze before he had turned away.

Dean had felt like his heart was going to explode, seeing Castiel turn away from him and walk into what they both knew was a trap. Cas had only taken a few steps before Dean strode after him, spinning him around and kissing him so fiercely that Dean was sure his lips were bruised. Cas had clung to him, curling his fists into the Dean's shirt and pulling him as close as he possibly could. It was over far too soon, though Dean's arms had stayed wrapped around his waist as they pressed their foreheads together.

"I'll see you soon, Dean." Cas had murmured. "I love you."

"I love you too," Dean's voice had wavered slightly.

Letting go of Cas, letting him walk away, had felt so  _wrong_ to Dean, but he knew that there were no other options.

He placed a hand on the cold door knob, trying to listen for any movement on the other side. He opened it slowly, praying that the hinges wouldn't squeak. Once inside, he could hear a faint crackle of a fire, but nothing else. He moved slowly, though the silence unsettled him. It was like the world was holding its breath, the calm before the storm Dean fully intended to bring down on Bartholomew.

There came a shuffling sound, like a rustle of clothes, then something heavy hit a wall.

 _Fuck stealth_ , Dean thought.

He reached the doorway in seconds, and felt all of the air leave his lungs like he'd been punched. 

Castiel was against the wall, hands gripping the shoulders of some blond guy that could only be Bart, who had one hand curled in Cas' black hair as they kissed. The edges of Dean's vision started to turn red and he took a step towards the couple. Before he had a chance to touch either of them, Cas shoved Bart away with so much force Dean was amazed he didn't fall.

"What the  _fuck,_ " Cas shouted.

They both noticed Dean at the same time, Cas' face flooding with relief while Bart's flashed with obvious anger. Dean was too busy glaring at Bartholomew to fully notice Castiel moving to stand next to him.

"You must be Dean then," Bart's lip curled in distaste as he said Dean's name.

For some reason, the fact that he already seemed to hate Dean made him feel better.

"And you must be completely insane to try and steal my family from me," Dean growled. "Go find Charlie, Cas."

Cas didn't move, "Dean, I can handle this. You-"

" _Go_ Cas. I mean it."

He hesitated, but Cas slowly slipped from the room. Dean strode over to Bart, grabbing him by the front of his shirt. The other man met his gaze, the coldness in his eyes almost mocking.

"You're welcome," Bart sneered, "He's only obedient because of all the time he spent with me. I  _made_ him-"

Dean fist crashed into Bart's face, the satisfying crunch of bone echoing in the room. He threw Bart away from him, and this time he did fall. He used the end table to steady himself, but Dean was on him instantly, pouring every ounce of anger and helplessness and every other negative emotion he'd felt in the past week into the blows. If Bart knew how to defend himself, he made no move to. He fell back, snapping the coffee table in half as he fell though it. Dean stood over him, blood from both Bart and his own torn skin dripping on to the hard wood floors.

Bart groaned, rolling over to spit out a mouthful of blood, and Dean thought he heard the click of teeth hitting the floor.

"Do yourself a favor, you piece of shit, and stay down," Dean growled.

Bart glared up at him, though it was less intimidating since his eye was already starting to swell shut. Dean wanted to keep hitting him, make him bleed and break just like he had done to Cas, but Dean knew he would end up killing him if he did.

"You think you've won, Dean? You have no idea what I'm capable of, what kind of power I have," Bart spat.

Dean crouched down, grabbing Bart's shirt in his hand again, "I don't care. You will  _never_ come near my family again. You may have some power back in that fucked up town of yours, but out here you are  _no one_. Daddy's money can't save you now. See, I have some power out here. High places and all that. You're going to prison, and with that face, you'll be passed around like fucking cigarettes."

Bart snorted, "Please. I'll be out before you know it. There's no proof of  _anything_."

"Except your confession," came Castiel's voice from the doorway. "I had my phone recording everything. You really got sloppy, Bart."

"Not to mention," Dean grinned, "You assaulted and kidnapped the daughter of a former FBI director. Imagine the power  _he_ has in the court systems."

Dean released Bart's shirt and the other man fell back. He stood and turned to face Castiel, who was supporting a very dazed looking Charlie. He started to make his way over to them, the distinct sound of sirens wailing towards the house.

Dean shrugged a little as Cas gave him a questioning look, "I told Bobby where-"

There was a loud bang, and Dean's abdomen was instantly on fire. The world seemed to slow down as Dean looked to see the pool of dark red blood spreading across his shirt. Cas' eyes widened, mouth forming Dean's name, but he couldn't hear it over the pounding in his ears. He felt his knees tremble, and he fought to stay upright. He touched a hand to his stomach, the blood shimmering in the flickering firelight when he pulled his hand away. He fell to the floor, falling for what felt like hours, while people in black gear flooded into the room, training guns at Dean. No, not at him, he remembered vaguely, behind him, to Bart. Everything seemed so far away, so fuzzy. Even now, the edges of the room were going out of focus. He blinked up at the ceiling, his stomach both cold from the waxy, cooling blood and hot from the fresh flow. The ceiling was gone, and he was looking into two of the bluest eyes he'd ever seen, full of concern and panic, silvery tears forming at the corners. He tried to reach out and brush them away, but his arms wouldn't cooperate.

"'S fine," he said, voice thick.

"Dean stay with me," Cas pleaded, "You're going to be okay."

He wanted to agree, he wanted to reach out and pull Cas against him, but he felt disconnected from his body. He blinked, and Cas' face was gone, replaced by a stranger. He wanted to tell the strange woman to get lost, but words wouldn't come. She was talking, but Dean couldn't make out the words. He thought he felt someone hold his hand, but he couldn't turn his head. Where was Cas? He needed to see Cas, to ask about Charlie....

He felt himself being lifted, pain shooting through him. He felt the scream build in his throat, but if he made a sound he couldn't hear it. The pain was endless it seemed. That's all his world was now, silence and pain. He blinked again, and this time, his eyes didn't open.


	15. Chapter 15

Castiel always hated hospitals. They made his skin crawl. The lights were too bright, too harsh, and it always seemed to smell of death and antiseptic. He glanced at the clock, immediately regretting it. Dean had been in surgery for over an hour, though it felt like days had passed. He paced the small waiting area, wringing his hands anxiously. They still felt sticky from where he had held Dean's bloody hand, though he had washed them not long after Dean had been taken back. He wouldn't have thought to, such trivial things seemed to not matter when someone you loved was bleeding out on a gurney somewhere while doctors fought against the odds to save his life...

Gabriel had been the one to bring it to his attention after he'd raked his fingers through his hair. His brother had made a pained face, taking his wrists gently and leading him in to the restroom.

"C,mon, Cassie," he'd said softly, "Let's get you cleaned up, yeah? Dean will freak if he sees blood all over you."

Cas had watched the rust colored water in a muted fascination. Everything had seemed like it was going to be fine, they had won. Charlie wasn't too badly hurt, a minor concussion was nothing to be too awfully concerned about, and the police were going to put Bartholomew somewhere he could never hurt anyone again. Castiel had met Dean's eyes and had felt the promise of a happy future, free from nightmares and sadistic exes and constant vigilance. 

Then, of course, Bart had ripped it all away. Those last few seconds replayed over and over in Cas' mind, an endless loop of the man he loved being shot, watching him fall, the cruel smile on Bart's face as he watched Dean being put on to a stretcher. He had looked so pale, the blood shockingly red against the white of the stretcher...

Cas turned when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Brother, you're gonna wear a hole in the floor if you keep pacin' like that," Benny frowned, "Come sit down. I'll get you some coffee."

He led Castiel to a bench in the waiting area, and Cas sat beside Jo in silence. What could he say? Words wouldn't make things better. Words wouldn't make time pass any faster...

Jo seemed perfectly fine with Cas' silence. She simply took one of his hands in hers and started talking.

She talked about nights at the bar, where Dean stood up against the odd groups of jocks that tried to come in and terrorize her patrons. She talked about meeting Sam, Dean's not so little brother, and old gruff Bobby Singer, who just happened to be one of her mother's closest friends. On and on she talked, about Dean and random memories alike. It was nice, listening to her voice, but all Castiel could think about was how powerless he was. Benny had returned at some point with coffee and news of Charlie.

"She's demanding to be brought out here with the rest of us, givin' the nurses one hell of a hard time," Benny shook his head, "I think its a requirement of that family, being hard-headed."

He placed a cup of coffee in Cas' free hand, and Cas stared at it blankly. Cas glanced at the clock again, and again regretted it.

"Almost two hours," he croaked, his voice unsteady.

Gabe moved to sit on his other side, draping an arm around his shoulders. It was an awkward position for his much shorter brother, but if it was uncomfortable he didn't show it. He opened his mouth to say something, but at the same moment a nurse entered the waiting room from the OR.

"Family of Dean Winchester?" She asked, looking around.

Castiel was on his feet and standing in front of her in an instant, "I'm his boyfriend. Is he okay?"

She looked extremely tired, and Cas' heart started to sink.

"He's out of surgery, and he's stable. The bullet didn't hit anything major, though it did rupture his appendix, so we went ahead and removed it. He should be fine, but it'll take a while for him to heal."

The wave of relief that swept through the group was almost tangible.

"Can I see him?" Cas asked nervously.

She gave him a weak smile, "He's not awake yet, but I'll take you to his room."

She led them down the hall to Dean's room, and Cas hesitated at the door. He turned to face his friends, suddenly nervous. Gabe gave him a nudge, and slowly Castiel opened the door.

Dean was asleep, still shockingly pale, but he was alive. He had an IV in one arm, and a mask over his nose and mouth that Cas assumed was supplying oxygen, but he was still Dean. He didn't remember moving, but Cas was soon seated in the chair closest to the bed, sliding it across the floor so he was right against it. His hand hovered over Dean's for a moment, but finally he took Dean's hand and pressed the scarred knuckles to his lips. His hand was colder than Cas expected, but it didn't matter. He was here, he was alive. Bart hadn't won. The nurse flitted quietly about the room, checking vitals and the wires that disappeared under the thin material of the hospital gown.

"When will he wake up?" Gabe asked quietly.

"Well, that depends on him honestly. The anesthesia should wear off soon, but he will wake up when he's ready. It's never set in stone when someone will wake up, and he lost a lot of blood."

Gabe murmured something else, much softer, but Cas was too focused on the rise and fall of Dean's chest to pay attention. The stress from the evening finally seemed to catch up with him, and he felt his eyes growing heavier. Knowing Dean would be alright, seeing him breathe and listening to the machine tracking his heartbeat, eased all of the tension Castiel had felt and allowed for the exhaustion to settle in. He must have started to nod off, because Gabe shook his shoulder gently.

"Cassie, do you want to go over to the couch? It'd be more comfortable," he murmured.

Cas grumbled, "No. I'm staying here."

He leaned forward and laid his cheek on the cool fabric of the sheet next to Dean's hip, still holding his hand. 

~~

He heard the beeping first. Steady, though somewhat annoying. There was something on his face, but when he tried to move his arm to touch it, he felt a pull near his elbow. His eyes felt like they were weighted down with lead, and his feet were cold. Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking at the dark ceiling. He glanced around the best he could, taking in the monitors and wires that were now connected to him. His eyes settled on the sleeping face of Castiel, still holding Dean's hand, and he smiled a little. He could feel the warm tickle of Castiel's breathing over his fingertips. He gave an experimental wiggle, glad when his fingers responded the way he wanted. He reached out as best he could, flicking the tip of his index finger against Cas' nose. The other man's face scrunched up, and a small sound of annoyance rumbled from his throat.

"Hey," Dean's voice sounded hoarse and raspy, and he realized how dry his throat felt. "Hey, wake up."

He continued his weak assault on the tip of Cas' nose, considering that was all he could really reach. The rest of his body was slowly starting to register in his brain, a dull ache coming from his abdomen. His limbs felt heavy, but they didn't hurt that much. The IV in his arm annoyed him, but he tried not to think about it. Instead, he focused what little energy he had into annoying his boyfriend until he woke up.

"Cas," he wished he could get his voice a little louder, "babe, I'm thirsty."

Cas made another small noise, but still didn't wake up. Dean tried to lean further down to be able to touch more than just the tip of his nose, but the movement caused a sharp stab of pain to slice through his stomach. Unfortunately, this small movement was all he could muster, so he'd have to just keep being annoying.

"Castiel," he tried to go louder, but just ended up sounding more raspy. "I really need some water."

"So get it," Cas groaned.

Dean grinned, "I can't."

Cas's face twisted more, then his eyes flew open and his head shot off the bed, "Dean! You're awake!"

Dean laughed, but it quickly turned into a dry, rattling cough that caused him to grimace in pain. Cas was on his feet in an instant, reaching to press the button that would call for the nurse. Dean shook his head, waving his now free hand towards the pitcher of water on the small bedside table.

Cas looked unsure, "The nurse didn't say if you could have water or not. I need to call someone in to check on you."

Before Dean could protest again, Cas reached forward and pressed the call button.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will be maybe 1 or 2 more chapters in this fic. I am considering making a sequel that takes place years down the road, but I'm not sure yet. Let me know if anyone would be interested in seeing where they end up!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very short chapter. Like I said, this fic is drawing to an end, the next chapter will be the last before the epilogue.

"For God's sake, stop fussing over me!" Dean waved his arms, hoping to distance a hovering Charlie.

The small red-head was not to be deterred, using the pillow in her hand to hit him on top of his head.

"Stop whining, Winchester. I'm not sure if you're aware, but there is a hole in your stomach." She said flatly.

Dean had been home all of five minutes, Castiel helping him from the car to the couch although he insisted he was fine, and he was already missing the hospital. At least there the visiting hours were limited. He had unknowingly walked in to a family reunion of sorts, Sam pacing in the small kitchen while his father sat crammed between a slight blonde on one side of the couch, and his gruff Uncle Bobby on the other side. It had surprised Dean to see his father and brother. They didn't live too far away, but with his father's health failing and Sam's busy school schedule, he hadn't expected them to make the trip.

Sam had been on them as soon as the door closed behind them, helping Dean to the recliner despite his protests. He eyed his brother as Charlie placed the pillow she'd just hit him with in his lap, since he wouldn't lift his feet. He hadn't seen Sam in months, and this sure as hell wasn't the reunion he wanted.

"Are you in any pain?" Cas asked quietly as he settled on the arm of the recliner.

Dean shook his head, exasperated, "What did I just say about fussing over me? I'm fine, dammit!"

"Quit bein' so damn stubborn for once, ya idgit," Bobby barked from the couch. "Are you gonna introduce your friend or not?"

Dean flushed as he realized he hadn't actually introduced Cas. He'd been in the hospital for three days, so he just assumed Charlie had told the family who was bringing him home. His eyes darted to his father, unsure of how he would react. John Winchester, though the liver damage from years of drinking had taken it's toll, was still a very intimidating man. Retired Marine, very much a man's man. How would he feel about his son being gay? Dean swallowed nervously, placing one shaking hand on Cas' knee.

"Right, well, uh," he stammered, "Dad, Sammy, this is Cas. Castiel. He's my pa- erm, boyfriend."

Cas rose and crossed the room to extend his hand to John, and Dean held his breath. John rose slowly, a few inches taller than Cas but twice as broad in the shoulders, leveling the other man in a steady gaze. Dean admired Cas for not flinching, he knew just how intense his father could be.

"We spoke on the phone briefly, but it is good to finally meet you, sir. Though, I wish the circumstances were better," Castiel smiled softly.

John was silent for a moment, and the room seemed to hold it's breath with Dean.

Finally, John gripped Cas' extended hand, maybe a little more rough than was necessary, "Let's not make this a regular thing, eh? How 'bout next time y'all just come for dinner?"

Dean exhaled, relief flooding through him as Sam stood and wrapped Cas in an unexpected hug.

"Yeah, Jess is a really great cook."

The small blonde that was seated on the couch blushed slightly, "I think you're slightly biased."

After his brother's significantly less awkward introduction of Jess, the room seemed to settle into a comfortable silence.

Well, comfortable until Bobby reached across the small space and popped Dean gently on the back of his head.

"That's for gettin' yourself shot, boy. You always check for weapons, and you never turn your back on a suspect."

~~

Castiel smiled as a light snore came from Dean as he leaned against him. He'd been fighting against the pain meds for the past two hours, nodding off but jerking awake and trying to play it off. He had been determined to stay up and entertain his visiting family, and if they had noticed him dozing off, no one said anything. Bobby was in the middle of telling Cas about some Volkswagen the boys had tried to hot wire one weekend at his place when he felt Dean leaning more heavily against him. He had looked down to see that he had finally lost his fight with the medication.

"Always was such a stubborn ass," John smiled fondly at his son.

Sam snorted, though his face broke into a wide grin, "Are you the pot or the kettle today, Dad?"

John grumbled, but said nothing. Cas found himself liking the youngest Winchester more and more as the day went on. He was quick to smile, with an infectious laugh just like Charlie. With his shaggy hair and friendly demeanor, he made Castiel think of an over-sized puppy. Of course, the large hazel eyes didn't exactly help that image at all.

"I'd better get him to bed. The doctor said he'd be more tired than usual, he needs a lot of rest." Cas looked to Sam, "I might need your help."

"'M not a baby," Dean slurred.

Cas and Sam both ignored him, each taking am arm and helping him to his feet. He didn't say a word, but Cas could see how his face paled from what he could only assume was pain. He slipped under Dean's arm, and felt the other man lean heavily on him. He wrapped a tentative arm around Dean's waist, with Sam hovering just a step or two away.

"We'll take it slow, Dean." Castiel soothed. "Whenever you're ready."

It was a long walk from the living room to Dean's bed, but they finally made it. Dean was asleep almost as soon as Castiel pulled the blankets over him. He stood there looking down at him for a moment before turning and following Sam back out to the living room.

Charlie was seated between John and Bobby now, talking animatedly about some game that both men had no clue about. Jess and Sam were talking quietly in one corner of the room, and for a moment Castiel felt like an outsider. Though he had been smiling and engaging in conversation with Dean's family, he felt like an intruder. He cleared his throat softly as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The group turned to look at him, and he felt himself flush slightly.

"I, um, I just want to let you all know how sorry I am. This is all because of me. I don't know what the official story you were told, but my-"

"Boy, I want you to listen and listen good," Bobby interrupted, "Everyone in this room knows what happened. Charlie told us everything. Hell, we even knew who you were before Dean told us. I just wanted him to introduce you officially. We are his family, son, and you should know by now that once he's set on something, there ain't no changing his mind. His heart has always been too damn big."

There was a soft murmur of agreement from the rest of the room, but Castiel knew there was more.

"You had no control over what happened. The fact that you went in alone to get Charlie, while stupid, speaks volumes towards your character. And seeing you with Dean, we all know he'd do it all over again to keep you safe. So, we don't want no apology or excuse. Just accept that you're family now, too. Famliy don't end in blood, kid."

Castiel blinked in surprise. He didn't know why, but hearing those words felt right.

"Aside from my brother, I've never really had a family that cared. They thought I was broken," Cas heard himself say.

"Oh, you'll be broken if you hurt my boy," John piped up.

Castiel smiled, "No worries there, sir."

He settled in to the recliner Dean had vacated, looking around the room at his newfound family. He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve the Winchester approval, but he was thankful for it all the same.


	17. Chapter 17

Dean recovered fairly quickly, though Castiel and Charlie still hovered like he would shatter at the slightest touch. It was frustrating, but deep down Dean liked the attention. It somewhat made up for the ugly bullet-scar on his abdomen.

He sighed in the mirror, glaring at the opposing discolored tissue. The shower was running, but he hadn't gotten in yet. Cas didn't know about Dean's thoughts on his scar, and who was he to tell him? One small scar was nothing compared to the dozens that covered Castiel's torso. He was just being a baby. He stepped in to the shower, rolling his shoulders under the hot spray and listening for the sound of the bathroom door opening. Sure enough, after about 5 minutes, the door opened and Castiel was wrapping his arms around Dean's waist. He laid his head against Dean's back and sighed heavily.

"Trial is tomorrow," he murmured.

Dean turned, pressing a quick kiss to Castiel's lips, "Yup, and we get to watch that fucker go to prison."

"My family might be there," Cas said after a moment.

Dean shrugged, "And? They'll see you, with me, and that'll be that. Bobby knows the judge, and we have one of the best lawyers around. He's not getting out."

It went without saying, that if somehow he did manage to get off easy through some fluke or giant pay out no one had anticipated, he would conveniently disappear. That was between Crowley and Dean though, Cas didn't need to know. Crowley had been upset when Dean told him he wasn't going back to the ring, but had shown to care more about Dean as a person than just a means for income. He had even come out to  _The Sanctuary_ the night before. He and Meg had seemed to hit it off, which made Dean slightly nauseous, but to each his own he supposed. 

 Cas sighed, but said nothing. Dean knew the thought of seeing his family upset him in more ways than one. They'd abandoned him, turned their backs on their youngest son because of who he was attracted to, and basically handed him over to a monster like he was nothing. Dean couldn't fathom the kind of people they must be, but he wasn't about to let them ruin his future with Castiel.

"Hey," he murmured, tilting Cas' chin up with one hand.

The blue eyes he had fallen in love with were swirling with so many emotions that Dean didn't know where to begin. He smiled softly as he traced his thumb over Cas' cheek.

"I love you, Cas, and my family loves you. You have a home here, with us, with me. We can do anything that we want, and no one will hold us back. Either they'll come around, or they won't."

Cas smiled, "I thought you hated chick flick moments."

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes, turning so Cas was directly under the spray of the water. He coughed and sputtered, his hair plastered to his forehead, and Dean couldn't help but laugh.

~~

Castiel pulled on his tie nervously as he waited in the courtroom, feeling hot and stuffy and trapped. Charlie slipped her small hand on to his elbow, pulling his hand away, and he felt Dean's hand on his knee, which he hadn't been aware had been bouncing. The day had been exactly as he had pictured, stressful and nerve-wracking as his parents seated themselves on the side of the room as Bartholomew and his family. Bart had healed fairly quickly from where Dean had hit hit, though his nose was slightly more crooked. Dean had smirked at him and Bart had glared coldly, before focusing his attention on Castiel. No matter how much time had passed, those unfeeling eyes always seemed to stare straight in to Cas' soul. 

The trial itself had been fairly cut and dry, Bart truly had been sloppy and there was more than enough evidence against him without the testimonies of Cas, Charlie, Dean and their friends. However, as he had known he would, Bart's father had paid for the most expensive lawyer he cold possibly find, which in his mind made him the best. Their lawyer, however, had been in the area for years and played golf every Sunday with the judge, so Dean was fairly certain they were going to win.

The one thing no one had been expecting, not even Cas, had been his own father taking the stand and telling the judge that Castiel was mentally unstable and therefore not a reputable source.

James Novak had not even looked in his youngest son's direction, but faced the judge directly, and lied through his teeth about Castiel's mental state.

"Your Honor, my son is a pathological liar and always has been. He formed a relationship with Bartholomew, and when he got bored he ran away with his brother, who is also known by everyone in our Community as flighty and irresponsible. He's shown all of these scars and made accusations of abuse, but there is no proof he didn't do that to himself. He is capable of many things that normal people wouldn't imagine doing. I raised him, but I do not stand with him in this trial. That should tell you something about his character."

The room had been so silent, Cas was sure they could hear the pounding of his heart in the back of the room. He had felt Dean tense beside him, but before anyone could move the judge spoke.

"Mr. Novak, I think the fact that you are able to look at your own child and side with his abuser speaks more about  _your_ character than anything else."

Cas would admit that seeing his father turn as red as his tie made him smile a little.

They were currently waiting for the jury to make their decision, which seemed to be taking entirely too long. Dean traced small circles on Cas' knee as they waited. Finally, after what seemed like ages, one of the jurors stood.

"Your Honor, the jury has found the defendant guilty of first degree murder, kidnapping, and attempted murder."

Just like that, Cas felt the air leave his lungs in a rush. They won. All of Bart's money and lies hadn't been enough. He didn't even hear the sentencing as he turned and pulled Charlie into a tight hug, before turning to Dean. He felt his eyes welling as he looked at him, and he quickly blinked to clear them.

"We won, Cas. He's gone for good."

~~

Cas was just about to climb into the Impala when he heard a small voice call his name. He turned, eyes landing on the short frame of his younger sister, Anna. She shifted nervously, wringing her hands in front of her pale yellow dress. Her red hair was scraped back into a tight bun, and Cas was vaguely reminded of a doll.

"Yes? Are you alright?" Cas didn't move towards her, but he couldn't help being concerned.

"I just," she looked up at him briefly before dropping her eyes back to the concrete, "I wanted you to know that I don't think of you like Mother and Father do."

She paused, finally meeting his gaze again. Her blue eyes, so similar to his own, swam with tears and her bottom lip trembled, but she continued.

"I know I have no right to ask this, but I'll be eighteen next week, and I was wondering if, maybe, if it wouldn't be intruding-"

Castiel cut her off, crossing the small distance between them and taking her hand in his, "You are always welcome, Anna. You were young, you had no way of knowing. You don't have to stay there if you don't want to."

She wrapped her arms around his neck, but before he could hug her back she was stepping away from him. 

"They don't know I'm leaving yet, but I am. I can't take it, I don't want to end up like the other girls there..."

They quickly exchanged numbers before she disappeared into the building again, and Cas promised to help her get out. As Dean peeled out of the parking lot, Cas felt as though he was weightless. His whole family hadn't abandoned him, and Bart was going to prison. He felt free, and he could see a endless future of possibilities stretching out before him.


	18. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the delay! Thank you to all who have been following this fic. I had my baby, which has been the cause for the delay in this final chapter. But! I'm back at it, and working on another fic, so keep watch if you'd like! Again, thanks to all and feedback is welcomed!

**_6 months post trial:_ **

 

".. Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you the newest members of the Kansas City Police Department, class 64 A."

Castiel, along with the rest of the gathered crowd, cheered while the members of class 64 A smiled on the small stage of the community college. Dean, though he tried not to look  _too_ happy, was all but glowing in his uniform. Beside Cas, Sam let out a long, shrill whistle. The class was formally dismissed, and the new officers filed off of the stage and mingled with their families. Dean made a bee-line for the small gathering of his loved ones. Cas thought for sure he would have gone to his father first, though he didn't admit it out loud, Dean would probably always long for the approval of John. "The drinking years," as Dean called them, after Mary's death were hard and kind words were few and far between from the retired Marine, but he seemed to be playing catch up ever since.

However, it was Castiel that Dean approached first. He grabbed him around the waist and spun him in a rather awkward fashion, considering their similar builds, but Cas laughed all the same.

He pressed a quick, chaste kiss to Dean's temple, "I'm proud of you."

Dean turned his grinning face towards John, who extended his hand towards his oldest son. Dean grasped it firmly, and helped in surprise when John pulled him forward and gripped him in a tight hug.

"Good job, boy," he said gruffly. 

Dean's eyes were suspiciously bright as he turned to Sam, but he blinked quickly and it was gone.

"Well,  _Officer Winchester,_ are you gonna take us to eat or what?" Sam teased.

~~

 Dean turned in the mirror again, fidgeting with his name pin.

"Stop worrying," came Cas' sleepy voice in the darkness, "You're gonna be late."

Dean rolled his eyes, "I will look dumb if my shit's all crooked. Just go back to sleep."

Cas hummed, seeming to take Dean's advice. He slipped quietly from the room and down the hall. Anna was seated at the kitchen table, laptop open with a cup of coffee. She smiled shyly at Dean.

"Do you ever sleep? It's 4 am, kid," Dean smiled at her.

She shrugged her thin shoulders, "Had a dream, needed to write about it."

Anna had come to live with them 2 weeks after the trial, moving in to Charlie's old room. Charlie moved in with Gabe when they found out Anna was coming, and the two of them seemed to enjoy the arrangement. After all, Charlie made an excellent wing man. Anna was aspiring to be a writer, often using her vivid dreams as a reference. Dean liked her well enough, she was very quiet, but every so often she would drop a snarky bombshell that took everyone off guard. She fit in the family just fine in Dean's opinion. He gave her a small wave as he headed out for his first shift on the KCPD.

 The faint dark spot in the edge of the parking lot didn't draw Dean's attention anymore. That chapter of their lives, mainly Castiel's, was over. Last they had heard, Barts father was trying to get him transferred to a prison closer to home due to alleged guard misconduct, but there was no evidence so nothing was being done. Dean smiled to himself as he looked on the dash of the Impala at a small photo in the bottom corner. It was taken the night they got home, Cas draped over a grinning Dean's shoulders, with the largest smile Dean had ever seen. It was his favorite photo of the two of them, though he planned to take many more. With one last adjustment of his name plate, Dean started the car and drove toward the police station, and the beginning of his new life.

 

 

Fin.


End file.
